


Who Needs The Night Sky

by josiegrae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Breakfast In Bed Gone Wrong, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cute, Developing Relationship, Except One Small Death, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oops, Remus Has Lupus, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sirius Thinks He Is A Rockstar, Texting, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiegrae/pseuds/josiegrae
Summary: When you ask the night for help, it brings you something in the day.Remus just wants to live a normal life, and Sirius just wants to live a life full of love.





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killiannc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killiannc/gifts).



> This piece was written for the Wolfstar Big Bang 2018 hosted by two amazing admins, and an array of talented writers and artists participated. I have been so lucky to have them all around me throughout. Check out the tumblr page for more information: [WolfstarBigBang](https://wolfstar-bigbang.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'd like to thank my wonderful artist, who imploded my mind with his talent, and you should totally check out all of his work on Tumblr, and the pieces of art for this piece (that are also embedded into this fic with his permission): [Baka3k](http://baka3k.tumblr.com). Not only is he a friend, but he's also the Batman to my Robin, and I'd be lost without him. 
> 
> Secondly, I'd like to thank ProfessorDrarry, who listened to me wail and moan, sob and cry, excitedly babble and make zero sense throughout. She beta'd the brilliance into the piece, and stayed with me the entire time, even if I was a little crazy. 
> 
> This has been such a rollercoaster of a piece for me, and I've fallen more and more in love with it as time has gone on, so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Love Jo.

**Winter**

* * *

Remus first noticed bright lights.

Lights that made his eyes burn under their lids; a blinding white that cut through his brain, making it impossible to move. He was moving, he knew that—the sensation of being on something soft, with wheels, combined with the nauseous feeling he only got when he travelled was his indication. Remus had also begun to struggle to ignore it, his stomach swirling as the object took another corner. Although, to Remus, that wasn't a new sensation.

He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, not really. He had been so busy, so caught up with revision and making cue cards. Remus had been intent on walking into that exam and making it his bitch. Unlike some of his peers, Remus had to try twice as hard to keep up, work twice the amount just to be half as good as them. For that reason, Remus hadn't wanted to pass a single second up that could be spent revising—not when _Hogwarts_ was near impossible to get into, just like the other Russell Group schools, _Cambridge_ and _Oxford_.

It seemed, however, from the blinding lights and the clinical smell that his time had been wasted. There would be no way he'd be allowed to take his exams; the people here would keep a firm grip on him, stealing his blood and poking his thoughts. Remus had known what pushing himself would do, but he hadn't cared, he just wished his body had the decency to follow his lead.

"Has he been complaining of anything?" A male asked, and Remus tried to concentrate on the voice, recognising it.

"Well...he _said_ he had a stomach bug, is that what this is? _A stomach bug_?"

Remus smirked to himself, even if it was painful to do. His head moving slightly against the object he was on—he assumed a bed—as it turned the corner. His father was, at times, a ridiculous man. Lyall who was once a proud pastor for a church, had shouted from the rooftops about how _fabulous_ God was, until he realised _God_ had blessed his son—his only son—with a systemic autoimmune disease that couldn't be cured. At first, Lyall and Hope Lupin had convinced themselves Remus could be cured with prayers—not the medicine provided. The two of them soon came around when Remus was young, and his skin was adorned with rashes and lesions—some leaving scars Remus was still self-conscious of, to this day.

"No, Mr Lupin." _Definitely Dr Moody,_ Remus mused to himself. "A stomach bug would be the _tipping_ point, but the other symptoms combined with the bug would be what happened to your son."

Each word was laced with the usual contempt, and Remus knew his doctor thought his father was a fool.

Feeling the bed coming to a stop, Remus took a deep breath as he tried to still his head. He wondered if they knew he was awake; Remus suspected Moody knew he was. The man had a third eye for these sort of things.

"Open your eyes, Remus, you aren't _five_ anymore, it's not _bloody_ cute," Moody spat in a low voice beside his ear. "Your father is outside the ward while I set you up. I'm disappointed in you."

Remus slowly opened one eye, not enjoying the burning that erupted through his mind. "Aren't you always? Isn't that your one trait."

Moody shook his head, his appearance slowly coming into view as Remus' open eye adjusted. His familiar dark grey hair, sporadic and thin, hung to his shoulders and his pale faced with its many scars from events he wouldn't discuss.

"I can treat _you_ ," Moody growled, "or I can call your father in and have _him_ talk to you." Pursing his lips together, Remus softly smiled before closing his eye again. "That's what I thought," Moody continued. "Now, I'm going to assume you were an idiot. _Again_."

Shrugging lightly against the mattress, Remus slowly opened both eyes as he met the watchful stare of his doctor. "Thought you might have missed me."

Moody shook his head, clicking his fingers as Remus let out a deep breath at what was about to happen. He didn't have time to brace, feeling himself being slid over to a softer feeling bed, his head being gently placed on the pillow.

"You, Lupin, are a _troublemaker_."

"Guess I'll take it, the only thing I'll ever be," Remus said weakly, suddenly feeling fatigued once more.

A heavy silence fell between them, and Remus would have assumed he was alone if not for the incessant beeps coming from his machine as Moody assaulted it. It didn't matter how long Remus had been coming in, every time, without fail, Moody would lose his shit with the machine. It was a constant, something Remus clung onto far tighter than he should have. He had so few things to clutch too, he didn't attempt to talk himself out of holding this one.

Without warning, Remus felt his hand being touched, and he knew that callous skin. "Listen here, Lupin. Whatever you think you would have become by going to that school, you'd still have been you," Moony said gruffly. "So, before you set up a pity party for one, count it as a _blessing_ you've got all your limbs and all your hair, _alright_?"

Knowing without a doubt Moody would have gestured to his wooden leg, Remus snorted and even though he was feeling the effects of the medicine- from what he assumed was the ambulance-Remus lifted both eyelids as he met the emotionless stare of Moody. "I worked really hard." It was all Remus had in him, the only words he could say without falling apart.

"Yeah, and you're still alive," Moody replied curtly, letting go of Remus' hand as he pulled the sheet up. "Stop giving your old man a heart attack, people will start asking questions, and I can't be _arsed_ with the paperwork of _three_ dead Lupin's in my career, alright?"

Remus nodded, letting out a sigh. "Okay."

Moody nodded, picking up the folder from Remus' bedside as he limped to the end of the bed before looking at Remus once more. "Killing yourself for your future, it ain't worth it. You need to _live_ , Remus, otherwise in a bed like this one, years away, you'll lie there with regrets instead of bitterness at momentary failure."

He swallowed back the words on his lips, the reply that was buzzing in his throat, and settled for silence as Moody handed a nurse his folder, and a flock of nurses moved around him. One by one, hooking him to the usual vital machines as some took his blood, and another asked him questions. It didn't matter how many times Remus came, none of them acted as if they knew him, not for this stage. They were professionals, and they were also terrified of Lyall—the man who sued a Welsh hospital for 'failing' to save Remus' mother.

"Remus Lupin," a harsh voice said, and Remus tilted his head to see Matron McGonagall coming closer. Her right eyebrow cocked disapprovingly as the nurses parted for her to come to his bed. Remus may not have been frightened of Dr Moody, but McGonagall was something else. "Back so soon, hmm? Missed the food did you?"

He tried to sink himself into the pillow, feeling his cheeks burn.

"I'm starting to consider that you want to live here, Mr Lupin. Have you become fond of the place? Or is it that you forgot how much care we put in when you visit, and upon discharge go outside and become as idiotic as possible so you come back?" She asked sternly, and Remus really wished the bed had a button to swallow him whole. "I assume from your silence it is the latter." She rolled her eyes quickly before taking his folder from one of her team. "Have you eaten?"

Remus frowned. "Today?"

"Goodness sake," McGonagall said with a hiss before turning her attention to the male beside her. "Be a dear, Nurse Dawlish, would you retrieve Mr Lupin a snack box from the kitchens?" The nurse nodded, but before he could clear the room, McGonagall's lips curled into a smirk and called him. "Mr Lupin doesn't like ham and cheese sandwiches, he prefers them separate." Dawlish nodded again, and Remus watched Matron McGonagall wearily. "You see, Mr Lupin, I could have asked Nurse Dawlish to get you a sandwich you detest, but, as a conscious and intelligent human, I did not. Do you see how easy choice is?"

Biting down on his lip, Remus nodded just as fearful as the nurse had. "My exams are tomorrow."

McGonagall's continuously raised brow quickly descended, and Remus couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw her face pale. "Get some sleep, Remus," she said much softer than before, "we can prod you for the rest in the morning."

It took barely a minute for the array of people to clear from his bed, leaving his room empty except the hovering shape of his father at the door. Remus, above all else, was tired—but not enough to sleep. He was tired of losing, he was tired of arguing, and most importantly, he was tired of being ill. Remus didn't want to do this tonight, not with his father. He wanted to be alone, and stare out of the open blinds at the cloudy night sky. He most definitely didn't want to hear about how he had _scared his father within an inch of his life_ or _his mother would be rolling in her grave if she knew how poorly he was taking care of himself._ Remus knew he had pushed himself _beyond_ breaking point, but this time, he had no regrets. Tomorrow would have been his day, the first one in a long time, and like most days before it, it had been stolen by a disease he couldn't see or get rid of.

Thankfully, his father was asked to come back in the morning when visiting hours were open, and Lyall simply gave his son an awkward hug and a soft I-don't-know-what-to-say smile. His sandwich arrived shortly after, and as soon as Nurse Dawlish left—turning out the main light—Remus let out a loud sigh at being back in the hospital and being alone with a flickering bedside light once more. The frustrating object struggled, just like Remus, to keep itself together and functioning. Remus could only smile as he looked out at the clouds covering the moon.

"Least I'm alive, ay," he muttered to himself and the empty room, "doesn't matter that I won't do any good with my alive-life, but least I'm here."

Pulling the blue snack box open, Remus took notice of the usual items inside. The sandwich, the fruit juice box, and the small pudding. Instead of eating, he painfully lifted his arm to turn the flickering light off and lay down facing the window, hugging his aching limbs as he willed them to stop throbbing.

When he was little, Remus had been terrified of the night. Everything he had once loved in the sunshine, turned sinister in the dark. Trees looked like they'd take him from his bed, the Welsh wind battering the windows as the branches tapped against the glass. The moonlight casting a light near his curtain pole, shapes and figures dancing across his ceiling. His lampshade edging closer to the bed, ready to fall on him and cut him like a magician did his assistant.

Now he was older, Remus loved the nighttime. Everything was quiet, and all of it was his. He didn't have to reply to anyone, his thoughts were never interrupted, and the wind soothed him—or it had until his father had moved them to London after Remus' mother passed away.

Back in their house, beside the pub, Remus would curl up on the large windowsill, wrapped in the handmade crochet blanket his mother had given him. He'd listen to the night, the locals staggering out of the pub, and the busyness of a town getting livelier in the night. Remus craved to experience it for himself, but as he stared up at the machine bleeping away, he knew like his future as a teacher, it was just a dream. 

The only downside Remus had found in his love for the nighttime were how his thoughts would drift to his mother. He could be thinking about space or books, and his mind would take him to her. He would be unable to not think of the way she used to lie with him or the way she spoke when she read him stories, always changing her tone for each character. Remus wouldn't be able to stop his eyes from springing with tears as he remembered her hand on his, or her lips on his forehead, and he wouldn't be able to put away the memory of her saying she was proud of him.

When the sun went down, Remus would miss his mother until it rose again. Some believed the tale of the man in the moon. Remus believed in a woman, instead, and not in the moon—his mum lived in the stars, and she would save him every time.

* * *

Sirius was often nightly banished to his room with the usual insults shouted at him as he climbed the staircase to his _prison._ He was _insolent, selfish and rude_ —he heard it shouted and spat at him so much, it was a surprise he hadn't begun believing it.

The only time he didn't hear it was when he wasn't home to begin with. He would sneak out before dinner and head to the only place he ever felt wanted him—other than school—The Potter's. Euphemia would fuss over him, greeting him with a mothering hug as he stood on her doorstep, looking as lost and hopeless as he had done the first time he had gone there years before. Fleamont would sit Sirius down in his office, asking him if it had happened again—asking everything but the real question at hand: _had they hurt him again? Had his parents laid a hand on him?_ And when that was all done with, they'd sit around the dining table, eating food and acting as though they were really all a family.

The Potter's house was _home_ and it didn't matter if he had stayed there all week, Sirius still hated leaving.

When he returned home, whether forcibly or by choice, it was only ever his brother who would acknowledge he had been gone. His mother would turn her head to him, and his father would barely look up from his newspaper. He'd climb the staircase with Regulus, hand on the rich oak bannister as his brother asked him _you learn any new songs, Sirius?_ Or _where did you go this time?_

His brother was his only friend in the house; even the butler resented him, and the only other place Sirius liked in the large London townhouse—other than his room—was the library, because it was the only place he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

Tonight, Sirius knew going to the library would only mean a screaming match with his mother—just because he didn't want to join the 'family business', wanted to study music instead. He beelined for his bedroom, taking two steps at a time, hoping with enough time he would be able to evade his mother's voice for a minute—even a _second_.

He reached his door quickly, and Sirius locked it without thought before flinging himself down on the bed, screaming loudly into his pillow, hoping to rid himself of all the frustration he felt. His body was tense, his muscles crackling from the electricity running through him from the repressed anger and hatred he felt for his parents. Screaming had become the _only_ coping mechanism he had found, and with each evening spent this way, Sirius wasn't sure why he continued to live here.

He was nineteen, he could leave. If he did, however, he'd be giving his mother everything she wanted and he'd be leaving his younger brother behind.

Regulus had always been favoured—the apple of Walburga's eye as James, his friend, would say. When Sirius had left Diagon Private School, his parents hadn't come to meet him—even if he _had_ exceeded their expectations with his results. When Regulus finished for the year a week later, both his parents were there to collect him, beaming with pride, even if Regulus hadn't got the grades he had been expected to get.

Sirius tried to not get upset, not like he had done when he was younger. He had spent far too many nights under his sheets, hugging his knees and not knowing why he wasn't enough. Sirius had witnessed too many parents adoring their children; when he watched his parents leave to get Regulus, it simply didn't hurt anymore.

His parents always claimed it was Sirius who was the broken one, the one who was unwilling to see _their_ side of things—even though their side of things were illegal and morally questionable. His parents were in it deep with people they couldn't pick from a lineup; their family lineage littered with dictators and racists. Sirius refused to be one of them—he _always_ had. He didn't make friends with the right person on his first day, even if James Potter came from a respectable family too. Sirius didn't pick the right subjects to study, just because he didn't have a taste for debate or politics. He was the _black_ sheep, as _ironic_ and pun-tastic as that was.

Turning his head against the pillow, not caring for the tears rolling down his cheeks, he gazed out at the night sky, staring at the bright moon with its many stars around it. He focused on the indents of the circular object, hoping to see the face he had formerly believed was there. Sirius felt his chest ache as he willed the moon to save him, to _protect_ him, hearing the footsteps coming up the staircase.

Just as he was about to give in, to surrender for the reprimanding he was going to be served, the usual nightly arguments through the door or, in the worst case, a cold slap to the face for _talking back._ Before Walburga got to take a chunk of his confidence or tried to break his spirit, Sirius' phone vibrated—and Sirius tried to convince himself it wasn't the moon sending someone to help, but he couldn't help himself. 

> **Potter:** _Get your bags, my dad has a surprise for us. He says he's had enough of his 'son' living with bastards._
> 
> **Potter:** _FYI, my dad actually swore, so, y'know, sort ya shit out and be outside._

Sirius sat bolt upright, wiping his eyes as his heart beat faster and faster in his chest as his eyes scanned over the words time and time again. He didn't get upset or angry as Walburga's fist hammered against his door; Sirius didn't want to explode as she shouted vile and horrid words at him through the wood. He just read the text, over, and over again, getting happier each time he did.

He was being saved, and unconsciously, Sirius looked up at the moon in the sky.

"Thank you," Sirius mouthed.

* * *

  **oOo**


	2. Summer

**Summer**

* * *

Resisting punching Severus Snape was a near-daily task for Sirius. He could admit that the start of their hatred came from him, but as Sirius had explained to Al Dumbles—the shop manager—Sirius hadn't meant for the rails to fall on Snape, just fall _close_ to him, just scare him. It hadn't been _his_ fault the wheel on the front was broken, no one had told Sirius—so surely he couldn't be _blamed_?

Even if Sirius had given a _stellar_ case for why he shouldn't have been blamed, he still was.

Although, his punishment of being sent to the womenswear stockroom was hardly a punishment at all for Sirius. He much preferred working _behind-the-scenes_ than on the tills—even if his personality seemed to suggest the opposite. Plus, he was used to be locked away; he had spent most of his twenty years being locked in a room, and he had always been rescued, so he had a great amount of faith someone would do it again.

Working behind the scenes for the largest department in the store—with the impressive stockroom he managed _by himself_ —had it benefits. For one, Sirius could play the radio louder than anywhere else and whatever station he wished—which often depended entirely on mood and therefore changed more frequently than his underwear.

Not to mention that he could organise things how he liked, with no one butting their _greasy_ nose in, which was the third bonus to his 'punishment'. Sirius didn't have to see Snape unless the slimy git came to ' _check in on him'_.

Sirius, still to this day, could _not_ understand how Snape had gotten a promotion out of his accident. Especially when he had the conversation skills of a slug and lurked more than he sold. He suspected, because he was an intelligent man after all, it was a far better choice to promote Snape than allow him to sue the store. He supposed he had to commend Dumbles for his way of thinking.

The downside to the promotion was Snape becoming Sirius' supervisor, too, and of all the people Sirius hated answering to, it was _him_. The two of them had known each other at Diagon Private School, and their rivalry was well ingrained in to the history of the school. Just like then, Supervisor Snape would take every available opportunity to berate Sirius, and Sirius would take any chance he found to remind Snape of exactly who he was.

A greasy snake.

"You're complaining _I'm_ slow?" Sirius snarled, his arms folded as Snape stared down at him.

Mirroring him, Snape folded his arms as his lips curled into his _usual_ smirk—the one Sirius would happily knock clean from existence. Except he wouldn't. Sirius liked this job—he wanted to feel useful—and he needed to earn his own way especially when his inheritance would run out eventually. He had been living off it for the last six months, ever since James had broken him free of his prison.

"Silent treatment, ay _Snivellus_? Mature, as always."

"You are one to comment on _maturity_ , Black," Snape said dryly.

It was instinctive for Sirius to crack his knuckles; it was a defence mechanism for Sirius to straighten his spine, elongating his already tall frame. Even if he despised Snape, he would never try to imitate anyone, he much preferred a war of wit than a war with fists.

Attempting to seem unfazed, Snape continued. "I am not _stating_ you are slow, I am saying the _rails_ _are_ slow at moving out of the stockroom. Onto the floor. Where they sell."

Sirius frowned as he pouted his lips. "I think. That fuckin' means. I'm slow, doesn't it?"

Snape rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "I'd ask you to _refrain_ from language, but you don't have a single thread of respect in you. Least of all to those who warrant or deserve it."

He tried to tell himself it was all a coincidence. Snape did not know about Sirius and his family, he had no idea he was emancipated or that they ignored his existence when they entered the shop. Snape couldn't know because neither himself or his family would tell anyone. They were too prideful, even Sirius. He hated his parents, despised them even, but even he drew the line at hanging his own dirty laundry for people like Snape to see. So Snape _definitely_ could not know because he told _Al in confidence_ —and Al, as _blase_ as he was, _wouldn't_ do that, _surely_?

Smirking proudly, knowing he had rattled Sirius, Snape stepped closer. "You're having a _new_ member of staff, the advertisement went out, and it has been _fulfilled_."

Sirius grit his jaw, staring down at Snape. "You may bully the people out there, but in here, you will always be _Snivellus_. Hire who you want, but don't expect me to like them."

" _Whatever_ ," Snape said as he walked to the stockroom doors before pausing to look over his shoulder. "Try not to go mad, Black, it is part of your _genes_."

If Sirius had been on the fence before, he was sure now that Snape knew. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a cold chill spread down his spine, forcing him to pale. The slam of the doors behind Snape made Sirius flinch as he stood, rooted to the spot, rubbing his palm with his thumb—the calming trick he had taught himself when he was a child.

* * *

Remus had no idea why he had decided to do this or what he had even walked into. He didn't _need_ a job, he wanted one. The exact opposite of what everyone his age went and got a job for, especially when had chosen to work at a department store no less. Retail, he had heard on the grapevine, was the _worst_ kind of work a human could do—mainly because of grumpy customers and theft—but oddly, it didn't deter Remus, because Remus really, truly, needed to get out of the house and forget that he had fucked his future up by being careless.

Taking a deep breath, and doing the usual flex of his hands, Remus listened out for the crack of his bones, one by one. He couldn't relax, not as he wiggled his baby finger on his right hand; he needed to hear it crack, and when it did, he let out another sigh in the attempt to settle the nerves flurrying inside of him. Rotating his wrists by his side he tried to prepare himself for what was inside and as he took a step closer to the doors, Remus heard his father's voice churn around his brain, layering doubts on to his already heavy shoulders, causing him to drag his feet as he entered through the automatic doors.

_"You don't need to do this, Remus."_

_"You know the world isn't safe, you know you aren't a well boy."_

_"You don't need a job to feel useful, Remus."_

Of course he knew, it had been all Remus had heard since his mother had passed. At one stage, Remus considered that his father was wrong, and that missing one hospital appointment wouldn't cause him to fall apart—Remus had regretted it instantly after putting it to the test during exam-preparation week and landing himself in the hospital for a week.

Remus had spent most of his life in a hospital—whether it be because of himself, or his mother. He had strived to be as little of an inconvenience as he could, especially when he was ill, but ear infections didn't seem to understand that, and so they attacked him, putting him in the hospital for IV antibiotics. It was then he learnt of what he really had—what he would be on lifetime medication for, and he bloody hated the idea that one day his body would fail him.

He struggled to swallow as the warmth from the shore's _welcome_ heaters hit him—especially when it was _mid-June_ —and he began regretting his shirt and jumper combination he had been stressed over for three days. He wished he hadn't worn either the shirt or jumper, even more, when the chaos of the department store swept over him, washing him in anxiety and nerves as his shirt clung to his back, something he thought he had banished on the train here. It had taken him an hour to settle on this combo, and if Remus had bothered to check the weather, he knew he would have discounted it like he had the first three times—especially when it was the hottest summer ever. He tried to not let it annoy him, and he tried to silence the tick in the back of his head; the voice that made him doubt himself and remind him how wrong he _always_ was.

Moving past some railings, feeling his jumper snag on something and his shoulder collide with someone else's, he hissed quietly in pain. It was gone five on a Wednesday, how _could_ this place still be so busy? Remus hadn't even heard about the place until he saw the job advertised online, never mind knew where it was. He looked down at the sheet of paper he had printed, crumbled and littered with tiny doodles from his train ride.

**_Twilfitt's and Tattings  
_ _Ladieswear, Level One_ **

It didn't take him a second to spot the sign, his hand stuffing the paper back into his pocket as he rubbed his fingers through the light brown curls that had chosen today to be disobedient. Remus straightened his back, not wishing to slouch or look as though he wasn't thrilled to be here—because he was. Being out of the house, being apart of something _normal_ , it was all he had dreamt about.

School had been difficult, college even worse. Remus was surprised his father had let him apply, never mind sign the guardian medical paperwork for him to commence his first job. Grief did that though; twisted the morals of a once firm compass, making things that were once clear and definitive, turn foggy and faulty. Well, that, and his father didn't know he was disobeying him all the time. Remus had decided to keep night school a secret from his father, choosing instead to lie and say he was visiting a friend—Remus had no friends.

Walking up to the desk, he noticed the tall, dark-haired man who had snarled at Remus at his interview. He hoped he wasn't the supervisor he was supposed to meet, and as he got closer, Remus realised his _hopes_ had been futile as the name badge came into view:

**_Severus Snape  
_ _Ladieswear Supervisor_ **

_Fuck_ , Remus thought as he painted a smile on his face, hoping it masked the nervousness that was wreaking havoc on his stomach. As long as he didn't stutter, or pass out, it was an improvement on his English Language and Literature induction. He rubbed his palm against his black jeans, hoping to banish some of the sweat, as he chanted various greetings in his head to prepare. Another futile effort, especially as Severus had already clapped eyes on him before Remus could fully be prepared. Remus watched Severus' thin lip curl up in irritation at the sight of him, he knew he had already rubbed this man up the wrong way. Remus had no idea _why_ , though; he thought he looked quite professional.

" _Interesting_ ," Severus remarked as Remus fought going bright red, "follow me."

Remus blinked several times, quickly following when he realised that Severus was not going to wait for him. _Should he even say hello now, or had that part gone_? In one sense, he didn't wish for this man to dislike him any more than he did. However, saying it now could be seen as idiotic, especially since Severus was metres ahead of him.

Struggling to not snag his jumper on clothing racks as Remus passed, he watched as Severus pushed open two doors marked _Staff Only_ , and didn't wait to hold either open for Remus. The back of the department store was the opposite of what people would think it looked like; the walls weren't painted, the lighting flickered like a horror movie, and it had a smell no one would want in their home.

Following Severus through another set of doors, Remus half-wished he had an anecdote or a fun joke to tell Severus; the silence was suffocating. He pawed at his shirt collar, hoping for more breathing space when he entered the room Severus had gone into and his eyes widened at the vastness of the place.

It was _huge_. The ceiling was higher than he had expected, shelf after shelf of women's clothes and a small table that looked like a child's in comparison to the size of the room. When Remus had torn his eyes off the size of the ladieswear warehouse, he met the eyes of a man who looked the opposite of whatever was expected from a stock boy for a department store.

For one, he had hair down to his collarbone, light stubble and tattoos up his arms. He looked like a drummer in a rock band, and Remus tore his eyes away from him before he ogled him any more than he had done already

" _This_ is your colleague," Severus said, as the man saluted to him. "He'll be the one giving your induction since he's _more qualified_ than I."

Remus tried to ignore the bitterness in Severus' voice, but before he could offer a compliment or reassurance, Severus had left in a swirl of dust and ripped tags, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

His colleague snorted, and Remus turned his attention back to him as he lifted himself up onto the table, his long legs hanging only an inch of the ground.

"Welcome to _Twilfitt and Twattings_ , where _twits_ and _twats_ come to buy shit they _don't_ need, for lives they _fuckin'_ hate," the man announced, and Remus bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing. "Don't worry, you can laugh, mock, have fun, and genuinely do whatever the fuck you want back here. No cameras." The man stuck his hand out, and Remus stared at it for a second before stepping forward to shake it. "I'm serious."

Remus frowned, letting go of his hand, and hoping his face hadn't indicated he thought the man hadn't been. "I didn't think you weren't being."

"No," the man smirked. "My _name_ , it's Sirius. Like Siri, on your iPhone, with an Us at the end. Siri-us. Sirius. And I am most definitely not _serious_." Remus felt his cheeks blush in embarrassment, and Sirius seemed to pick up on it. "Honestly, don't worry, if you hadn't assumed I meant _serious_ I'd have fallen off the desk...and I _do not_ want to do that again."

"Again?" Remus laughed.

Sirius winked. "No cameras. It gets lairy at four when the _seriously_ -un-Sirius people go home, and then it's playtime for _unserious_ -Sirius. What's your name anyways? The wonderful _supervisor_ forgot to say."

"Remus. I'm Remus."

Sirius nodded and grinned, jumping down from the table as he rubbed his hands together. "Lovely to meet you, Remus. Now, hold on to your horses, it's about to get _thrilling_. It's induction time. Now _usually,_ we hire extra staff for Christmas and they get the shorthand of this, but you've joined us a few weeks before and that means, fun fun fun for even longer."

Remus knew from online scouring that inductions were anything but _thrilling,_ but somehow, with it being Sirius who was doing it, Remus was sure he wouldn't hate it as much as others happened to in chat rooms. Sirius, who had apparently not wanted to signal to Remus to follow him, had already darted off ahead, forcing Remus to break out into a jog to catch up.

"You're about to learn stockroom 101," Sirius laughed, walking backwards as he looked Remus up and down. "And trust me, you _do not_ need a pen. Women's clothing comes in trucks." Sirius turned around, allowing his back to face Remus as his arm extended out, pointing to two large doors. "They come in boxes, with clothes in bags. We take them out of the bags back there," Sirius' thumb pointing behind before spinning on his heel and stopping in front of Remus. "We cube them, hang them, rail them."

Remus blinked, trying to ignore how handsome the man was both up close and far away.

"Questions?"

Swallowing, Remus nodded. "I've got so many."

Sirius softly smirked, crossing his arms, not moving from before Remus—their bodies a lot closer than Remus was used to with strangers. "Ask away, I am an open book."

_Have you always been this handsome?_ — Down Remus, Down.  
_Do you like men?_ — No, that's inappropriate.  
_Shut up, he might like the flirtation, Remus.._ — Don't be foolish, you've just met the man Remus!

Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of both the flirtatious and panicked alter-ego within him, Remus smiled. "What do you mean _cube_?"

Sirius' smile changed into a smirk. "I'll show you."

* * *

Things in the stockroom were meticulously organised, and Remus suspected it was down to Sirius. He studied him as he worked, watching as coat hangers faced a certain way, the size of the clothing perfectly on display. Sirius had _tried_ to argue that it was the Twitfitt way, but Remus didn't believe it for a second. The first week passed in a blur, and the second followed just as quick.

Sirius, who was surprisingly hilarious, made him feel more comfortable than Remus had ever been. He was by no means used to Sirius' sarcasm yet, or any closer to understanding the rivalry between Severus and Sirius, but overall, Remus was having a nice time.

Once the tutorials and induction were over, it dawned on Remus that he would have to talk about himself. It was something he had never _had_ to do. He knew there was so much for him to discuss, but he had no idea where to start. Conversations, difficult and open ones such as these, were never plentiful in his household. Remus didn't have the openness and fearlessness of sharing his thoughts because for most of his childhood, he had needed to lock his feelings away, especially when his mother became ill. Sirius was more than welcoming and he didn't make Remus feel as uncomfortable as most did—but he still felt nervous, not knowing where to start with discussing things that weren't work-related.

A conversation, however, presented itself on the horrid _Wednesday-delivery_ day—the day where the _rejected clothing_ from other poor performing stores came in. Sirius _despised_ it, stating that nothing was organisable because none of it had a place here. It made the man—who Remus found to be the tidiest human he had ever met—clumsy and disorganised, something that seemed to only happen on a Wednesday. Because of that, Remus wasn't surprised when he witnessed Sirius dropping a bunch of _medium_ cubes for the hangers, and in Sirius' rush, his pocketed possessions falling out, cascading out of the tight jean pocket they lived in. Remus hadn't thought before he acted, darting to the floor and picking up a wallet, keys, and...a pick, for a guitar.

"You play the guitar?"

Sirius flipped his hair from his shoulder in exaggeration as he rose to his feet. "You really think someone with rockstar hair, doesn't know how to act like a rockstar? Of course, I know guitar. The guitar is like... _my child_."

Remus smiled. "Are you in a band?" Sirius frowned before shaking his head. "Do you practise—wait, how do you practise...if you live in a tiny house?"

"My house is not _tiny._ For one it has a huge Prongs in it," Sirius smirked, moving the clothes down the rail, sizing them in order. "And it's not all that noisy."

Remus sniggered. "We will come back to what the _fuck_ a Prongs is," Sirius snorted as Remus held his eye. "Electric guitars are ridiculously noisy, I had a friend who liked to _think_ he knew how to play— _and_ proceeded to show me that on a sleepover. Trust me, and the black rings around my eyes I haven't got rid of since, he cannot play—and it is loud."

Sirius chuckled. "How stereotypical of you," he smirked as Remus frowned. "You don't have to be plugged in to be a rockstar. Acoustic. Just me, my fingers, and my wooden lady."

Remus bit back a grin. "I thought you said it was a _child_."

"Um, you can have daughters, Remus. _God_!" Sirius smirked.

He didn't bite, and Remus placed the clothes before him on a hanger. "I can play the keyboard."

Sirius chuckled, juggling the tiny cubes in his hands. "How _lower-_ class of you."

"Not all of us had pianos in their houses, Sirius," Remus teased, "my keyboard was just fine to play an _outstanding_ rendition of Happy Birthday." Sirius raised his brow, his smirk having risen to match.

"Is that all you managed to learn?"

Remus blushed. "The noise bugged me."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'll show you outstanding. My fingers are wonderful, each of them. I don't think I can pick a finger that is my favourite—or hand. One is fabulous at chord work, and the other is fabulous at strumming—if you get what I mean."

"Unfortunately I do," Remus laughed, turning from him to hide the reddening cheeks. "Maybe you can show me sometime. The guitar strumming that is."

Remus looked over his shoulder, noticing the pink hue on Sirius' cheeks at his outlandish, brave behaviour.

Sirius removed a hanger from the rail, sticking it in a new place along the pole. "I'd blow you away."

"I hoped you would," Remus flirted, turning beetroot red at the innuendo.

* * *

Having someone as attractive as Remus working alongside Sirius _should_ have been illegal. For one, the man continuously did these stretches that caused the thick jumper, which Remus _always_ seemed to be wearing, to rise and always allowed Sirius a flash of pale skin. The first time he had done it, Sirius had been caught completely off guard; he lost words, he forgot to breathe, and he even slipped on a piece of tissue paper that had been between a shirt. Thankfully, he had been able to style it out.

The hardest thing was the cute noises Remus made when Sirius brought him a chocolate bar from the shop. At first, it had simply been out of consideration for his colleague, but then Sirius began to crave the noise—as _perverted_ and insane as it sounded. It was sweet, joyful, and in the midst of the two of them running around like mad-men, it was a slice of heaven Sirius could enjoy without sin.

Remus himself was one good looking specimen. First, there was his jawline, perfectly angled and with barely any stubble, dimples beside his smile. Then, the glorious eyes, the ones that twinkled when Sirius made a joke; he had a smile that could brighten the coast with how bright it shone. And he was intelligent, _so_ , so intelligent. For once, Sirius didn't mind debates, because for _once_ he had a worthy contender—although for the sake of their working relationship, they only really debated music and chocolate bars, just to keep the peace.

"How _dare_ you!" Remus said with a snort. "How could you pick such a _boring_ chocolate bar for the rest of your life? A Dairy Milk? Not even the caramel one!"

Sirius shrugged as he adjusted the hangers. "Well, I like my chocolate like I like my men—"

"Dark and boring-as-fuck?" Remus interjected, and Sirius' mouth dropped open as he turned to look at Remus.

Remus had never sworn—not at work _so far_ anyways, and most definitely not in front of Sirius. Well, not loud enough for him to _actually_ hear; Sirius had occasionally heard Remus mutter the odd _fuck_ and _bastard-shirting-twat_ —the latter which happened to be Sirius' favourite. But Remus never swore directly in Sirius' company. If Sirius wasn't already crushing _hard_ on the man across from him, he had fallen head first into a pool of feelings.

"Well, I…I will not lie to you, Remus, you have caught me off guard," Sirius said proudly, bowing dramatically as Remus chuckled. "However, _no_." Sirius straightened himself, placing a hand on his chest as if he was about to testify in court. "I like my men without frills or needs for extras. Men who are comfortable in their skin, and offer no surprises underneath."

Sirius licked his lips as he slowly dropped his hand from his chest dramatically. "Well, a _big_ surprise never hurt anyone, but that's a different kind of surprise." The wink he followed up with caused a lovely shade to pass over Remus' cheeks; Sirius was torn between calling it rose or peach, but either way, it was beautiful on him.

Remus shook his head, and Sirius knew he was hoping to shake the blush. "You are a confusing man."

"All the best ones are. Remember that Remus," Sirius said with a grin, "no one falls in love with the ordinary. Everyone falls in love with the spectacular."

Handing Sirius the next hanger, Remus smirked to himself and Sirius bit back a smile at the sight. He knew Remus would come back with something witty, something brilliant, and even if it over demoralised his point, Sirius rather enjoyed confident and outspoken Remus.

"So...another man's trash is another man's treasure, but Sirius'd?"

Sirius placed the hanger on the rack, turning on his heels before leaning over their shared counter. "Oh, I love it when people _verb_ me, even more when it is done by you Remus."

A scarlet colour passed over Remus' cheeks this time, and Sirius knew _instantly_ he was fucked. Red had never looked so good to him—Remus had never looked so good to him.

* * *

**oOo**


	3. Summer

**Summer**

* * *

The night of a full moon, Sirius never slept. It wasn't because of the past, he had buried that the moment he had been freed; he stayed awake because of the present, not wanting to waste a second of it. He owed so much to the _moon_ , it had shone down on him when he didn't feel he deserved light; it guided him when he was alone, and the people who should have led him, didn't. It was silly, and to some, it would seem deranged, but to Sirius, it was a constant; it was something to cling to—something that had _always_ been there, long before James and school.

He would lie on his bed, pillow under his arm as he gazed out of the window, feeling the breeze circulate his room.

Every day, he was thankful for the Potters' helping he and James find the flat they now shared. Every morning, when he woke to peace instead of abuse; every evening when he sat down with a takeaway and a movie with James, instead of wondering if tonight would be the night he'd be forced into the _family business._

If James was worried about Sirius' family, he never showed it. Even when they had shared a dorm together at private school, James had never judged Sirius—if anything, the two of them became closer in spite of it. James knew Sirius' family were heavily involved in things that had been had been hidden from him, including the blackmail of certain politicians, and even the occasional police officer, to get what they wanted. James hadn't even judged Sirius when he suspected his family had been involved in a murder, his friend had stayed by his side even when James should have run.

When morning would come, Sirius would rise like normal. He'd shower, dress, and eat with James as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sirius would grab his headphones, punch James in the arm and leave for work.

It hadn't helped when the heat had been stifling all evening, and Sirius had needed to keep the bedroom window open for air circulation, hearing young adults stumbling down the road, falling out with whoever they were with. He had thought that was the end of it, another full moon under his best, but it was only when he arrived in the stockroom did Sirius realise how different the day after, _this particular,_ full moon was. And it wasn't because the temperature still hadn't stopped.

"Lupin isn't in today," Snape hissed, barely looking up from the clipboard he was reading.

Sirius frowned, having worked with Remus for almost a month, never noticing anything wrong with him—other than his need for tidiness. "Is he ill?"

Snape's lip curled. "Funny, I _thought_ the two of you were close."

"Is it impossible for you to answer a direct question, _Snivellus_ , or you fancying another trolley meeting that large post you call a nose?"

Dropping his smirk, Snape narrowed his eyes. "Appointment. He has been excused by high-above."

Sirius frowned, shoving his hand into his pocket as he began to roll his thumb against his palm. "Alright," he said, even if everything wasn't _alright_.

It couldn't be. Even if he had only just met the man, and apparently knew very little about him, Sirius felt like he knew Remus—he felt as though he had always known him, in fact. Before Snape asked him anything—or he gave him any indication he was upset—Sirius left, heading towards the stockroom with his thoughts swirling around his head. He tried to remember any hints Remus may have given him that he was he sick. Did he act sick? He complained of being tired, but Sirius did the same—it was something they constantly agreed on.

Pushing open the door, Sirius groaned at the mess the Sunday team had left for him. His head felt full, too compact to think straight; his chest tightening as though something was sat on it, and Sirius crouched to the ground, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face.

_If I had slept, I wouldn't be in such a bad way. I would at least be able to think logically._ Taking a deep breath, he began to nod against his hand, rubbing the end of his nose against his palm as the sensation seemed to slow his thoughts. _He's okay, it could be the dentists. You don't know him, even if you think you do._

Dropping his hands, letting them fall to the ground between his legs, Sirius looked at the disorganised chaos in front of him.

" _Bloody_ moon," Sirius muttered to himself, "where are you now, ay?"

Standing to full height, he let out another big sigh, dropping his shoulders as he made his way over to the table—which was usually clear—and began to move things. Keeping busy would stop him from worrying, even if he had no idea why he was worried. It was foreign for him to worry, to be concerned about someone other than himself or James. But there had always been something _odd_ about Remus—about the _way_ he felt around Remus.

If Sirius said he was caught off guard by him, it would be an understatement. He barely knew the man and already he wanted to run up to the office and retrieve Remus' number so he could check on him. It was an appointment—that was what Sirius kept reminding himself. Remus would be back tomorrow, and if he wasn't, _then_ he would act upon his concern.

The plan he had made was brilliant, if Sirius thought so himself. It didn't stop his brain from whirring; it didn't stop him from worrying.

"Oi, Snape," Sirius called out, crossing the ladieswear department, not caring that this was not his station and he shouldn't be there.

Snape took the longest time to turn around, a smirk plastered across his face as though all his birthdays and Christmas' had come at once. "Yes, Black?"

"Is he alright? Remus." Snape raised his brow, and Sirius groaned quietly. "I don't want to be left in the shit-lurch if he's going to be off sick or something. So, you gonna tell me?"

Narrowing his eyes to near slits, Snape cleared his throat. "I have been assured he will be back tomorrow." Sirius sighed in relief, trying to fight the smile that _desperately_ wanted to appear at the news. "However," _fuck,_ Sirius thought as Snape continued, "If he is not, it would seem you'd be in the " _shit-lurch"_ for a while. _Terrible_ circumstances for Lupin's appointment, isn't it? I am sure he told you."

He's testing you. _Do not bite, Sirius._ He _wants_ to annoy you.

"Extremely," Sirius retorted, not willing to give in.

* * *

Returning to work should have been a blessing, but Remus instead found it a curse. Sirius, who claimed nothing was wrong, moved around him like Remus was going to drop dead any second.

He attempted to convince himself that Sirius was picking up on his mood, and did not know anything. It became harder for Remus to convince himself of this, however, when Sirius wouldn't let him climb a ladder or carry anything too heavy. On several occasions in the first hour, Remus had almost built up the courage to call Sirius out, but every time Sirius would flash him a sympathetic look and Remus would wilt like a flower in fall.

Turning the radio had seemed a good mood setter— _at first_. Initially, Remus had hummed along to certain songs and others had even sang-whispered—a testament to how comfortable he felt with Sirius. It would fade immediately when he found Sirius watching him, and Remus would become so embarrassed he couldn't look at him for several minutes.

By the halfway point of his shift, Remus had been driven to anxious insanity. The odd stares, the shifty behaviour, and the insane voice in his head that told him he was being talked about would not be silent.

"What do you know?"

Remus' eyes widened at the sound of his own words leaving his mouth. He had thought, practised internally how he was going to broach the subject, and when it came down to it, he spat them out haphazardly and crazed—everything he hadn't wanted to sound like.

He could feel his cheeks burn, and his brain whirred into a new level of worry and discussion not even Remus could silence with willpower. But Sirius could, and he did it with one look.

Sirius looked like an injured puppy, his eyes wide and sad. His complexion pale and in stark contrast to his dark hair. "You had an appointment."

"Okay?"

Remus watched Sirius shrug, and even he could tell it was forced, and he barely knew the man. "You didn't tell me about it."

If he hadn't the words himself, Remus would not have believed Sirius could sound as childlike as he did. Opening his mouth, all set to tease Sirius, Remus found himself frozen—unable to move or reply even if he desperately wanted too.

Sirius' kicked-puppy look had faded to something else entirely, something defeated and broken, and it physically hurt Remus to look at.

"I'm...sorry," Remus said, softening his expression and lowering his tense shoulders. "I—well as your colleague, I should have told you, and for that, I do apologise. But, I will be having more, at some time."

Nodding, Sirius looked down. "You, like, alright and that?"

Remus tried not to smile, finding Sirius' care a bit more than he had expected to receive. "Yeah, I have baggage, that is all. Sometimes it needs to be...manhandled."

Lifting his head quickly, Sirius' eyes twinkled, and Remus almost burst into laughter—half-expecting a pun to emerge. But just as quickly as it came, the look faded, and a relieved one settled over Sirius.

"I'm glad, I was a little worried."

"I didn't mean to cause you concern," Remus said truthfully, playing with the size-cubes before him—hoping the distraction would stop his cheeks from burning.

Sirius let out a sigh, one that made Remus look up without lifting his head. "I think I'll always be concerned about you, Remus. Comes with being my mate, and we are mates, aren't we?"

He was about to answer, hoping to reassure Sirius immediately, not wanting Sirius—for another second—to be worried. Remus found himself, once again, temporarily unable to speak He was caught in Sirius' eyes, lost in the sea of grey that invited him in, persuading Remus that it would catch him.

"C-course we are," Remus stammered, not able to break from Sirius' eyes. "Mates."

Sirius nodded, a soft smirk in the corner of his lips. " _Mates_."

* * *

Remus' first ' _official'_ full payday came around quickly. Six weeks into working with Sirius, and yet the man still caught him off guard. Today, it had been when Sirius slapped him in the cheek with the little piece of paper, catching him _completely_ off guard. If it had been anyone else, Remus would have ripped him a new one, but it seemed when it came to Sirius, he was the exception to _every_ rule Remus had ever had.

He never minded when Sirius touched his arm or shoulder—something Remus usually hated. He didn't care if Sirius teased or mocked him, often joining in himself. Remus didn't even care when he caught Sirius' eyes staring at the bruises or scars on his arms from blood tests and various other things—Sirius never made him feel uncomfortable.

"This mine?" Remus asked, grinning as he turned over the envelope, staring at his name on the paper. "I've…"

"It's rather exciting," Sirius said, "it was for me, at first anyway. Now, mine just goes on rent and food, I'm so adult."

Remus looked up from the paper, grinning—especially when he caught Sirius climbing the stockroom ladders to sit on his makeshift ledge at the top of the railings. "Yes. _So adult_ up there on your child ledge above the _e-n-tire_ stockroom."

"Don't tell me how to live, Remus. I'm a rebel—a monkey rebel," Sirius teased, stepping on the railing, gripping the ledge as he tried to step to the pallet.

He had watched Sirius do this four times, and each time Remus felt himself hold his breath. He was nervous, thinking of every bad possible outcome—but not once had it happened. Sirius made it over, sporting the same _told-you-grin_ he did each time—as though he could read Remus' pessimistic thoughts.

"Would you catch me?"

Frowning, Remus cocked his head. "What?"

Sirius sat down on the pallet, nine foot in the air. "Would you catch me if I fell?" Remus watched as Sirius swung his feet. "Would you be the one to save me, Remus?"

His throat dried, and Remus could feel his heart thumping in his ears. " _Yes_ …" he whispered, and Sirius' cheeks began to turn rosy. "But you won't fall, will you?" Sirius stared, not moving. "Not when you're the most _amazing, most brilliant,_ climber that ever did exist."

Sirius chuckled, looking down at the paper in his hand. "Before Prongs— _James_ , I mean—all of this went to my mother." Remus dropped his hand, folding his own up and placed it in his pocket as he watched Sirius twist his in his hands. "I built this," Sirius said, tapping the pallet. "It was just me, myself, and I in here. And up here, I could look out over what I had built, and know that what was in this envelope was all _mine._ "

Sirius didn't meet his eyes, although Remus wanted him too. There was such a sadness to his voice, it actually hurt Remus. It scratched against his skin, making him want to reach out, to touch and comfort Sirius, when Remus never wanted to do that with anyone.

"I used to sit up here and wonder if falling would hurt as much as giving everything to _her_. Then James…he's like _my brother_ and my _best friend_ ," Sirius smiled, wiping his cheek and Remus felt his heart halt at the sight of a tear running off Sirius' nose, crashing against the floor. "He saved me. I haven't felt that safe with anyone ever, until I met you."

Sirius reached over to the ladders, dragging himself over to them as he stepped on them. Remus let some of the weight fall from his shoulders, knowing he was safe.

"I guess," Sirius began, "That's why I told you that, so you knew how safe I felt, and then, you could possibly feel safe to talk to me. We are... _friends,_ Remus."

With his feet back on the ground, Sirius wasted no time in walking over to Remus—pacing through the thick tense air, dotted with emotions Remus couldn't understand. He tried to silence his thoughts, not wanting Sirius to know the effect he had on him—not wanting him to think he was abusing this _friendship_ with his thoughts of touching, and lips meeting.

"You don't have to share, not at all, just know that I'd never think less of you," Sirius added, stepping beside Remus on the workbench. The sizing cubes all set in front of them. "Whatever you say to me stays between—"

"My parents _were_ highly religious. They didn't believe in blasphemy or anything like that," Remus said, grabbing a coat hanger from the side, before unpackaging the dress before him. "I'm not sure if you are, but I'm not... _religious_. I don't, I just can't get my head around it and, yeah," he trailed off, placing a size cube at the top of the hanger.

Even though Remus was in the room, _willingly_ sharing, he felt as though he was watching himself. Being distant and unattached from the moment; the sounds around him, like Sirius grabbing some bagged clothing from the box, sounded miles away. The rustling bag and clattering off empty hangers not annoying Remus as much as normal.

Blinking and forcing himself to focus, Remus continued. "When I was fifteen I had to have some tests," a lump began to form in his throat, and Remus tried to swallow it down, attempting to act normal. "Sorry, anyways, I had some tests and my father, who didn't believe in modern medicine—spouting the _lord would heal his boy_ —got angry. He fought with my mum, and he went out drinking. He couldn't wrap his head around me being tired and coming up in rashes, he tried to say they were normal."

Remus caught Sirius placing the clothes in his hand down, and he tried to remain focus on his own workload. The cubes needed to be on the hanger, and that was all Remus tried to focus on.

"He said some... _sinful_ things, and the next day, the results came in," Remus slipped the cube on _finally_ , placing the hanger on the rail. "To this day, my father thinks his blasphemy is what gave me Lupus. Combined with anaemia, I was in and out of the hospital as a child _._ It means this sinfully gym-honed body, in my father's eyes, is _sinfully_ his fault,," Sirius raised his eyebrow at his sarcasm, causing Remus to smile in embarrassment, "anyways, it means I get tired a lot, swollen feet—and the best part, I urinate a lot, because I'm prone to kidney issues, so I drink bucket loads of water." Sirius chuckled as Remus bit the inside of his mouth, trying to hide his smile. "Anyway, my wonderful father believes that the Lupus—and my mother's cancer—is all to do with him calling my consultant a, 'fucking idiotic wanker'. Not poor genes, or a mutation in my making—it's the Lord cursing him."

He let out a laugh, it felt forced, but Remus needed it. The tension becoming too much in his shoulders, the air feeling too tight in his lungs.

"He doesn't get _it_ ; even now he's not religious. There is nothing to help put in his mind that it was gene-related, the ' _Lord_ ' didn't give me it as punishment. My father is a good catholic...well, he was. He still doesn't handle it well, any of it really, pretends it doesn't exist for the most part, and often tries to tell himself my mum is at bingo, you know, rather than with the man upstairs," Remus sighed, reaching for a new hanger.

Sirius, who had done an amazing job of being silent, cleared his throat. "Are they still religious?" Remus looked up and must have been sporting a frown as his colleague continued. "Your parents, that is?"

Remus shook his head. "Father lost his faith when my mum died; she lost hers when the church turned its back on me...I got caught holding hands with a boy from the street next to ours." He let the sides of his smile curl into a grin. "It was an _utter_ scandal—we lived in a village in Wales you see. We moved here, to London when my mum got ill. Best treatment for her."

Sirius bit his bottom lip, and Remus remained silent, wanting to allow him a chance to speak. It wasn't that Remus suspected Sirius wouldn't share, but he wanted to ensure the space was safe for him—just as Sirius had done for him.

"My parents are religious. It was the final nail in the relationship for them. Between them and me, that is. I think my _sexuality_ was a little more than they could handle," Sirius scoffed, and Remus notes the hint of bitterness still in his voice. "Beating their own son for disagreeing with them—allowed. Their son being attracted to men—banned. Burn him at the stake."

Remus looked up, watching as Sirius forced a cube on the hanger, the pressure and anger within him causing the hanger to crack in his hand. Sirius didn't seem as disgruntled by the sound as Remus was, his body standing to attention as Sirius curled within himself.

He wanted to say something meaningful and reassuring, but Remus didn't know if it was his place. He didn't know Sirius _all that well_ , and didn't wish to upset the only person he actually liked here. And, the only person Remus ever worked with.

"I'm sorry…about your parents," Remus offered, handing Sirius a spare hanger from the box beside him.

Sirius pointed at Remus' abdominal area. "Sorry about the urination and rash playing up. You have to, you know, do anything for it?"

Remus shrugged, trying to make light of it—just as he always did. "A bucket load of medication, and some transfusions here and there—that's mainly for the anaemia. I have to be stress-free and take care of myself."

Sirius took it with a nod, and Remus tried to not add any more to the conversation, feeling embarrassed he had talked so much. Sirius—who it seemed, like Remus, did not like the silence—spoke again. "What was the front line of the paper?" He asked, and Remus smirked. "I assume if there is a scandal in the village, someone _has too_ write a paper all about it—how else will word travel?"

Remus smirked, biting back a laugh. "Carrier pigeons, of course."

A laugh erupted from Sirius, dispersing the tense air—their confessions becoming something of the past. "Oh, how could I forget."

"I'll forgive you for the error this time," Remus laughed, "next time, be more on your game, Black."

They caught eyes, and Remus tried to ignore the bolt that shot into his core. He felt drawn to Sirius, and he didn't know why. It could be his smile, his personality—or the fact he was handsome as _fuck_ —but all Remus knew for sure, he didn't want to bugger it up.

"You're so gracious, Lupin. How will I ever thank you," Sirius teased, adding a poshness to his voice. "Oh, I know," he said, raising a finger as he pursed his lips, "I shall buy you one beer, Monday evening—and to give you notice, not this one, but the following. September 1st—we don't have work Tuesday, I checked."

Remus swallowed, a skip of his heart and a nervous, yet excited panic shooting through him. Sirius had thought about this, he had checked, pre-planned ahead, and somehow known that Remus would need notice. He didn't think to question how Sirius had acquired his rota, the thought barely remained in his mind. Instead, he focused on not blushing like a tomato, and attempting to seem _as_ casual as Sirius was being.

"I graciously accept your invitation."

Sirius nodded. " _Perfect_."

"Perfect," Remus repeated, grabbing another hanger from his to-do pile. "It's a... _date?"_

Smirking, a devilish glint in his eye, Sirius licked his lips. "Yeah, it _is_ a date."

* * *

**oOo**


	4. Autumn

**Autumn**

* * *

Sirius was practically giddy when he got home, pressing his back against his front door as he screeched in excitement to himself. He clutched his phone to his chest as though it had the cure for all diseases when in reality, it had the phone number for Remus inside of it. Remus wanted to go out with him; Remus, who also must have liked Sirius.

"What on _God's_ sweet earth, is that noise?" James shouted, moving from the kitchen into the hallway as Sirius only beamed in response. "I need you to raise your hands."

" _What_?"

James tilted his head, sporting a grin as he did it. "I need to make sure you aren't having a stroke, you look _pretty_ fucking weird right now."

Sirius let out a soft sigh, raising his hands before moving them from side-to-side as though he was blowing in the wind. "I, got, Remus', number-er. I, got Remus' numb-ber," Sirius sang, as he closed his eyes, moving his arms quicker before dropping them down and beginning to make a beat with his mouth. " _I, do-do-do, got Remus', do-do-duh, number-er-er-er._ "

Folding his arms and resting against the wall, James observed, and Sirius—knowing he had an audience—smirked as he continued, moving his dance into the running man with _pops_ and _locks_.

"Alright, alright," James said laughing, "can we not turn the hallway into the West End? So, you got the guy's number?"

Sirius stopped dancing, placing a hand on his chest as he caught his breath, and ran his other hand through his hair, moving it from his face. "I did. We are going out. Tomorrow. I need to give him my— _our_ —address, but, it is happening."

Nodding proudly, James looked at him awkwardly. "Is this one of those celebratory hug moments?"

Tilting his head from side to side, Sirius bit the bottom of his lip. "I think it could be, Prongs."

"You don't think...well, you don't consider them to be stupid, like Marlene said?"

Sirius shrugged, scrunching his nose as he played with the end of his hair. "I recall saying that Marlene is stupid."

James let out a raucous laugh, and Sirius grinned to mirror him before the two jumped at one another, hugging the other as they bounced on their toes.

" _Sirius got the number_ —" James sang, out of pitch.

"— _Oh, I got the number_ —"

James continued, the two bouncing around the small hallway, still arms wrapped around the other in the usual way they brotherly-hugged. "— _Sirius got the number, and he's going on a date_ —"

"— _and I'm going on a date_ ," Sirius sang in a much higher pitch than before.

They let go of each other as they both continued laughing, Sirius following behind James as he clapped him on the back as they walked the short distance into their open living room. Sirius felt his phone buzz, and he tried to not burst into nervous—but excitable—giggles. Remus had texted, and Sirius only hoped he didn't scare him off with wink faces.

* * *

After Sirius had given his address to Remus, he had been as calm as he could when it came to saying goodbye. As soon as Remus had turned the corner from his workplace, and out of sight of Sirius, he jumped up and down—not at all caring how foolish he looked.

He had an address, and a number—although Remus had been given that in case he needed to call in sick. But now, the number was his to _text_ and to receive texts.

Sunday could not come quick enough, and when it did, each hour passed so painfully slow. Remus had seen seconds, not just minutes. He had changed his outfit from shirt and jumper combo to t-shirt and cardigan number six times—and that didn't include the variations of colours he had. By the time Remus got in his father's car, he was a wreck—a sweating, freaked out mess.

"You _can do this. You,"_ Remus said into the inside mirror, staring at his own green eyes, "can _do this!"_

The pep talk worked for the drive, the radio being his friend and playing a mixture of upbeat chart tracks to old indie classics he had memorised the words to in the hospital. By the time he had parked, he was screaming the words and tapping his fingers, but when the ignition turned off, and the silence crept back, so did the doubt.

_Fuck_ is all he thought as he stared at the small end-terraced house. It was nice, but scary; inside was a man—one Remus had a crush on—and another who he had heard only a handful of things about.

1\. Prongs was his nickname.  
2\. Prongs made Sirius' lunches for work.  
3\. Prongs was Sirius' best friend.  
4\. Prongs was developing an app.

He _had_ to impress the friend. If Remus didn't, he was sure Sirius would ignore him for the rest of his days and forever more. Remus wasn't sure he could handle that—not when he was to used to Sirius' company and joy.

Opening his car door, Remus shakily stood, yanking at his navy jumper as he tried to breathe normally—no small feat when he was _this_ nervous. As he walked up to the front door, locking the car, Remus blew into his hand as he attempted to see if he needed any more gum or mints—not that he had either.

When he stood before the door, wondering if he _should_ have gotten a gift or a beer for Prongs—not that he knew what the man drank, but he was sure he could have darted to a shop and tried or—

"Remus!" Sirius shouted, pulling Remus from his thoughts and making him crash back to Earth.

Sirius was stood, door open with one hand and a black bag in the other. The warmth flowing over Remus from the house. He couldn't think, _that_ was how good Sirius looked. It was a simple black shirt and jeans, but the way it fit Sirius, the way it cut into his figure and how Sirius had missed the top two buttons on purpose, it was heavenly, dreamlike handsomeness. If that was a thing.

"Hey," Remus said, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I was going to knock, I wasn't just stood on your doorstep…" he swallowed, " _being nervous_."

He watched him smile, letting go of the door and moving to lift the lid on the dustbin before Sirius looked directly into Remus' eyes. "You look good, Remus."

Remus blushed, he hated how he was reduced to a lovesick teenager when Sirius looked at him with those dark, grey eyes.

"You want to come in? Put a face to the name of James Potter, the infamous rogue I live with. Prongs-Potter, the Prong-ster. Or… did you want to go?"

"No, lets-um-meet James," Remus said, swallowing back his nerves. "Let's meet James."

Sirius cocked his head, signalling Remus to follow him. He walked into the house, surprised to find it far tidier than he imagined with two men living together. The walls were decorated with paintings without signatures. The smell a cross between oak and vanilla—either way, it soothed Remus. After walking through the hallway, he was stood in the kitchen, putting eyes on a dark-haired, tall male who had a large bottle of juice in his hand, while his other pushed his glasses up his nose with the other. He smiled, bright and warm, and Remus could tell the two of them got up to way more reckless and mischievous things than what Sirius had told him at work.

Sirius turned to Remus as he held a hand to point towards James, the only other person in the rooms, declaring, "This is James, more commonly known as Prongs—which, as I've said is a long story, but I'm sure now that I have him here, I could share. And James, this is Remus: _my date_."

Remus held his hand out shaking the hand of the dark-haired male, all the while attempting to ignore the way James looked at him as if he was studying him. "I have plenty of time," Remus cleared his throat, "for the story."

Sirius chuckled. "Prongs here, got _white-boy wasted_ at his eighteenth, glued chop-sticks to his face and proceeded to "prong" everyone the entire night. He looked like an _uncool_ Darth Maul."

James shrugged, a smile broadening in his face. "Sirius is Padfoot—"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm the _black sheep_ of the family, and my family is _insane_  and deranged. So—"

"And he does ballet," James interrupted as Sirius shot him a look. "Fine, _did_ ballet. All the time."

Remus folded his arms, watching with amusement as the two men stared one another down. The air crackled, but remained joyous and he didn't need to know their entire history, it was clear they were close—brotherly, even.

"James stalks Lily Evans on Facebook, on Tumblr, on Snapchat—"

"You can't stalk on _Snapchat_ , Padfoot," James interrupted.

"All the same, _mate_. If you could, you would," Sirius smirked and James continued to drink the bottle of juice, shrugging. "He's a little obsessed." Sirius frowned, thinking for a second as he smirked. "You must be my brother, Prongs. You're just as unhinged as my actual blood."

"Fuck off," James said, throwing the cap from his drink at Sirius. "Fuck right off with that analogy. I am nothing like _Wal-twatta_ Black."

Sirius sniggered before high-fiving him. "Anyways, you've met Remus and now we are going out, so, g'day Prongs-le- _Prong_."

Remus moved to shake James' hand goodbye, finding himself in an awkward high-five, that made both men frown in confusion. "Um-nice to meet you, James."

"And you, Moony."

Remus spun on his heel. " _Moony_?" Looking from a wide-eyed James to a stunned and blushing Sirius.

James smirked, and Remus gathered that while he was here, Sirius wouldn't hurt James. "You gonna tell him? He deserves to—"

"No. Nope. Nu-uh. No," Sirius sang-shouted, shaking his head.

James shrugged, feigning an apologetic expression. "Sorry, _Moony,_ maybe another time."

Remus narrowed his eyes, but momentarily forgot about digging for more information when he felt Sirius take his hand. His _hand_ —their fingers were _touching._ His mind exploded, his hand getting warmer and warmer, as though it had never been warm before. Remus had _obviously_ been with other men—boys—before, but it never felt like this; so teenage-love, so movie romance. It felt...butterfly-like.

The two walked to the car in silence, Remus smirking as he awaited the outburst from Sirius who was nervously tapping his fingers against Remus' hand. One thing he had learnt about the man dragging him to his car, was Sirius couldn't resist telling a story. It took him far longer than Remus hoped, _or expected,_ but as soon as Remus had turned the car ignition, and locked the doors, Sirius burst open like a can of beans on _toastie_ day.

"I said you had a nice arse that could _moon_ me whenever. It's stupid, and childish, and derogative because there are so many _other_ nice parts about you. But I was drunk off _Jack Daniels_ —which for the record is like truth serum for me—and it came out and James put it on Snapchat."

Remus pulled off from Sirius' house, gripping the steering wheel to stop himself from laughing. He swallowed it back, forcing himself to take some off the edge from Sirius. "I mooned someone once...not a prospective date—but now I know what you're into, I should have done it from the start," he looked over at Sirius who wasn't blushing, or even embarrassed at all, and Remus liked him even more for it. For owning something that would have crippled Remus completely. "Like a dance to show that I was interested."

"Funny, ha- _ha._ Now, tell me your story that's making your ears produce more heat than your car," Sirius chuckled.

Remus shrugged, pulling up to the junction. "It was nothing really, the guy had been pissing me off. He'd been writing on paper that I was gay, which I have no problem with being announced, but he stuck it to the back of my chair every time I was in English. So, I stood up, dropped my trousers and mooned him while saying: ' _I don't have a problem with myself or anyone being gay, but clearly you do, so here is an extraordinary arse that you give so much shit about'._ It was childish, and I was sent home, but yeah, I mooned him. Ironically, he came out when we left College. I like to think my arse has something to do with it."

Sirius tilted his head. "Confident Remus. I _like it."_

He went back to blushing again, this time brighter than the red stop light above them.

"I'm thinking of Hogs Head, the one from near work?" Remus added, hoping to change the conversation.

"Sure, _Moony."_

Putting the car into first gear, pulling off as the light changed green. "That's my name now isn't it?"

Sirius laughed, beautiful and rich. "Wait till I'm screaming it."

Remus had never gripped the steering wheel so tight.

* * *

The night had gone far too quickly. Remus wore the laughter lines caused by Sirius, and Sirius' cheeks bore the blush from being complimented—something he claimed _never happened_. The two of them drove halfway home, Remus having spent the night drinking Pepsi, and listening as Sirius told him various stories about work colleagues and _Prongs_. He didn't want the night to end, being with Sirius felt freeing and wonderful—something Remus had, so far, never found with another human.

"McDonald's?" Remus offered, the large gold 'M' looking down on them through the windscreen.

Leaning himself against his door, Sirius smirked. "Almost feels like you don't want to take me home, _Moony."_

Remus flicked on his indicator, relaxing into the environment of the car—enjoying Sirius' merriment from the beers. "Maybe I don't, but, chicken nuggets are God's gift to us mere mortal souls. It would be rude to ignore them."

"Touché," Sirius laughed, his head nearly hitting the glass as Remus made a sharp turn into the car park.

He tried not to seem grateful as he entered the drive-thru, relieved that the two of them would have to remain in the car—in close proximity. Remus had only ever seen dates like tonight in movies, having never experienced a _real date himself._ He hadn't expected it to go so well. He'd had to occasionally pinch himself to prove he wasn't asleep, and the evening was all a dream.

After Remus ordered them a "share" box of nuggets, a large of fries for Sirius, and two large Diet Coke's, Remus paying before collecting their food, he moved into a space against the back of the McDonalds. He had hoped for a private space, but he had already scoped out the CCTV cameras on a previous visit—hating how he always did it.

Sirius waited for a second, tapping his fingers against his knee before he clicked the radio on, and Remus watched as his brow raised at the CD that came on.

"The 1975?" Sirius smirked.

Remus pulled off the end of the straw's wrapping, blowing the end so the rest of the cover blew into Sirius' face. "Yeah, and what?"

Raising his hands in defence, Sirius chuckled. "I'm a fan too, just peculiar is all."

Biting his lip, Remus looked at Sirius from the corner of his eye—wanting to pinch himself for the moment he had been presented with. "You look a bit like Matt Healy with that hair."

"You like him?" Sirius asked, wiggling his brows.

_Not as much as you._ "Yeah, he's not bad is he?"

Sirius smirked, grabbing his drink from the holder as he sipped on his Diet Coke, leaving Remus hanging for as long as possible. Remus watched, wide-eyed, as Sirius let the straw slowly fall from his lips, a trickle of liquid on his lips.

He had never wanted anything more than to use the tip of his tongue and wipe it from Sirius' lip. Remus _needed_ to know what he tasted like; he _craved_ the feel of Sirius' lips against his.

"It bodes well for me that you already have a crush on my style icon," Sirius said suavely. "Means I have to do less to get you to go on another date with me."

Remus opened the box of nuggets on his lap, giving Sirius a look as the man's hand moved across to grab one—directly above Remus' aching core.

Sirius rested his head against the chair, placing the chicken in his mouth. Remus found he was unable to look away. The car park lights glittered in his eyes as he watched Remus; the large golden M shone directly into the car, giving the vehicle a soft romantic glow.

The stare the two of them shared, combined with the intensity of their feelings, the lingering words that still hung in the air, made Remus' throat dry, and his chest tighten. So much was swirling in the moment, and he didn't want to fuck it up. He wanted to see Sirius again—more than he wanted to breathe.

"Remus," Sirius whispered, licking his lips gently, and Remus couldn't help but watch the pink tip swipe across those plump lips. "Would you be against—"

"No," Remus breathed, inching closer, not needing his chairs support.

Sirius softly smiled. "I didn't even finish—"

"Kiss me," Remus whispered softly with purpose. "I want you to kiss me; I want to kiss _you_."

Not wasting another second, not questioning another moment, their lips met slowly, and perfectly. Remus felt the coldness from the ice and drink, and he couldn't help but press his lips deeper against Sirius', swiping his tongue over his mouth as he tasted Sirius and the salt from the chicken. Remus placed his hand against Sirius' cheek, feeling the stubble against his palm, noticing how soft his tanned skin was as Remus brushed his thumb over before spreading his finger up into Sirius' dark locks.

It was like a movie kiss—the two of them losing themselves to sense and awareness as they begun to move their lips more passionately. The car was already steaming up from the food, but the added lust between them added a new dimension, thickening the air and making Remus' hair stand on edge in apprehension and adrenaline.

The moment couldn't have got more perfect, and unfortunately, it didn't—their kiss was suddenly broken by Remus knocking his drink over Sirius' lap.

" _Ah–fuck_! That's–c-c-cold!"

Remus, having no idea what to do, darted for tissues throwing them at Sirius' lap as though it had offended him. "Sirius! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't, it's fine," Sirius tried to smile, his hand forcibly rubbing the cold drink from his lap. "Fun fact: hard-ons and ice drinks—they _aren't_ friends."

Remus bit down on his lip, feeling guilty but also trying not to laugh. "Hard on?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, snatching a nugget from the tray on Remus' lap. "You kiss like a man starved; like someone trained to kiss professionally. You, Remus Lupin, have been keeping those blissful, dream-giving heavenly lips from me for weeks! Months, even."

He tried to not let his cheeks flush, but Remus knew it was a losing battle. "I didn't—I had no idea that you—" Sirius cocked his eyebrow as though mocking him, and Remus chuckled, biting his lip. "Fine, I was a little scared and...convinced you wouldn't be into me."

"Fool. Utter _fucking_ fool, you are." Sirius shook his head, throwing the tissues in the empty brown bag as he looked down at his jeans. "I look like I've pissed myself, which I don't normally do until the third date at least."

Remus chuckled. "Glad we got that out the way then," he winked.

Sirius snorted, a glint in his eye as he rested his head against the chair. "I had a nice night, Remus. Which I never admit. Not to anyone. But, I don't really want to be my usual dickhead self with you." Remus tried to keep a level of composure, not wanting to embarrass Sirius to add that he felt the same. "I also don't think I can stay out here, my fucking balls are freezing."

Remus nodded, a grin appearing on his face as he turned the key. "I'll take you home."

Laughing, grabbing another nugget, Sirius winked at him. "That's usually my line."

He knew Sirius would never let him live it down when he stalled the car, his foot slipping from the clutch in shock.

* * *

Remus would have been a liar if he said he wasn't nervous about going into work. He had not _stopped_ talking, texting or missing Sirius since their _date_. He could hear his mother's voice, " _never mix business with pleasure",_ and what had Remus done? He had done exactly that. But, when he looked back up the text chain, Remus found he didn't care enough to stop, and if he was honest pleasure and business had never mixed so well.

> **Remus** : I had a really nice time last night, Sirius.

And he had, truly. He had grinned all the way home, and then some.

> **Sirius** : As did I, Moony.  
>  **Sirius** : I'm not sure I can live that down or let it go.

He didn't care that his face blushed as he had breakfast with his father, and he didn't care that his eyes barely left his phone screen, much to the suspicion of Lyall Lupin.

> **Remus** : I don't mind if you knight me Moony, Sirius.

Remus' found his heart hammered in his chest as he slid into bed. He hadn't flirted like this, ever. And somehow, even though he had already said it, he didn't feel ready to start.

Until he saw the reply.

> **Sirius** : Like to be on your knees, Moony? ;)

Giggling, Remus rolled onto his front, feeling the excited flutters of joy bubbling around his stomach, his thumbs quickly replying.

> **Remus** : You'll have to wait to find out. Night, Sirius.

He didn't stop grinning when he woke up on Tuesday morning, and that was the part he was most nervous about as he pushed open the door to the stockroom, sweat clinging to his palm as he tried to force the lump in his throat to vanish. It didn't, not even with brute swallowing. He liked Sirius, a lot, and it somewhat terrified him.

Remus had been half-expecting to see Snape leering at him or Al Dumbles with that soft smile, explaining that Remus _had_ to leave. His mind quickly jumped to Sirius, climbing the ledge, no one to catch him, and Remus' heart began to thump quicker than it ever had.

Neither of those things happened.

"Morning their Moon-man," Sirius exclaimed as Remus came face-to-face with his rather excitable colleague. "I have got you...coffee, tea, Diet Coke, and, my personal favourite, Fanta Twist."

Remus frowned, a smirk wishing to pass over his lips. "You... _bought_ all of these? For me?"

Sirius laughed—full on chuckled as though Remus was the ridiculous one. "Of course for you. It's a thank you."

"For the date?"

Sirius belted our another laugh, and this time Remus wasn't sure how to react. "No. Foolish, Moon-man. For coming into work even if you're feeling impossibly awkward."

Remus didn't miss the wink he was sent, and when Sirius grabbed the cardboard tray with the assortment of drinks, doing a little wiggle, Remus let the tension fall from his shoulders like a sheet. Sirius _got_ him—no one ever got him. Already—and they hadn't worked together for all that long—had already realised how impossibly introverted Remus was.

"Pick a drink, _any_ drink."

Wiping the sweat over his jeans, Remus motioned to raise his hand when Sirius began to speak again.

"I must warn you, your fate is decided the moment you take one. The tea, while providing a warm tummy, will forever keep you in this boring, un-Sirius like world. The coffee, while full of caffeine, will take you to a world where everything is upside down. The Fanta, well that's a recipe for disaster because it's mine," Remus laughed as Sirius winked, "but the Diet Coke, that will give you the _break_ you desperately search for, young Moon-man."

Remus cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "Are you Matrix-ing me?"

Sirius gave a little shrug. "Prongs and I ended up watching it when I got back."

"I'll take the Diet Coke, since it seems like the only _pill_ that will get let me keep you and have a peaceful day," Remus replied.

Nodding, Sirius handed him the bottle and grabbed his own before flinging the tray into the bin with an almighty—and somewhat dramatic—bang.

"You want to keep me then?" Sirius asked, and Remus didn't miss the hint of unsureness laced around the words. The most confident man, who seemed like they had never been more unsure in their life. "I mean, just so _I'm_ sure."

Remus bit down on his lip, the sound of his heart thumping in his ears drowning the sound of the overhead air-con. "If that's OK?"

Sirius nodded, a soft—but reassured—smile passing over his face. "While we work, I'll try to keep my hands off you."

"Much appreciated," Remus said with a laugh before winking, " _after all_ , this is a place of work."

"Just so y'know, it will be _so_ hard; since you're...well... _hot as fuck,_ and all that."

Remus wasn't sure he had ever blushed so hard, and so quickly. He had no time to react or speak, meeting Sirius' eyes as he wandered off to their station with a knowing smirk. _Well played_ , Remus thought, finding it hard to ignore the bubbles in his stomach.

* * *

**oOo**


	5. Winter

**Winter**

* * *

Remus wasn't always prone to keeping things in a structure, but on days when he hadn't slept well and his body ached, his patience was very thin. He had done the best he could at hiding his impatience from Sirius multiple times. After the first month of learning things, and the second of finding his own feet, the third month brought annoyance and stress at things not being put back right. It didn't help that Christmas was vastly approaching, which for retail staff meant _hell_.

It bothered Remus—it _irked_ him. He found it hard to concentrate, _needing_ to put everything in its rightful place before he started. Sirius assumed he was being a diligent worker—Remus had heard him informing Dumbledore of this when he had asked where he was. In truth, Remus was knelt on the floor reorganising the size cubes, trying to fight tears from frustrating staff who he didn't even know.

Dating Sirius made everything harder to hide. He didn't just see him at work, he saw him _outside_ of work, and as it approached a month of them dating, Remus felt himself beginning to unravel from keeping so much to himself.

"Moony," Sirius called, trying to pull him from his haze. "Shifts over, we can go."

Remus shook his head, trying to ram on cubes that didn't seem to want to go. "I just need to finish this."

"Nah, come on. We can do that later, come on, you look—"

Remus glared, although he hadn't meant too. "I _need_ to finish this."

He couldn't explain it, so Remus didn't. It wouldn't make sense to someone else. It wouldn't matter to someone else that his skin crawled, that his mind would only think over _and over_ again about the cubes. Remus wouldn't be able to sleep, he wouldn't be able to leave the rail like this—especially when there would be the morning team, and they would mess up their system even more. The system they lived and worked by—the very foundation of what they did. It may not matter to Sirius, but it mattered to Remus, and he couldn't explain it, he couldn't explain why. So he didn't.

"Moony?"

"No," Remus said, as kindly as he could. "We have a _system!"_

Sirius raised his eyebrow. "No. I have a system. I introduced you to that system, that doesn't mean that is now _our_ system."

Remus opened and closed his mouth, frustration building. "But—you, and hangers and…"

"You look set to burst there, Moony—"

"Don't _call me that! Not_ here, not when I'm…" Remus turned around, grabbing a handful of mis-hung hangers and threw them on the bench. "I _need_ to fix this. It is wrong and I can't _think_ until it's fixed. It's just _wrong and I can't—"_

Sirius who dropped the hanger and cubes in his hand over the bench, stepped back, looking at him curiously. "Fine. Well I'm going home."

"Fine!" Remus snapped, his forehead tingling with annoyance and a headache. He hated side-effects, he hated days where he felt less himself—more weak, less thoughtful and kind. "Go."

"Fine," Sirius snapped, grabbing his coat roughly. "Have a nice _night."_

Remus who had been forcing the size 10 cube onto the black hanger so forcefully it snapped, looked up, and he knew his eyes would be crazed. He could almost feel the wildfire growing over him, ready to burn and scar any in its path.

"I will."

For a second silence was all that was between them. Then it was footsteps that belonged to Sirius'—footsteps that were leaving. Even with the sound, Remus couldn't stop. He grabbed another hanger, clipping the trousers on as he rammed the cube over the silver hook. Remus railed the item as he heard the stockroom doors slam shut, and only then did he wake up from his moment.

Looking over his shoulder, one door still swinging in the air of rage Sirius had left behind, Remus' shoulders sunk.

"Fuck," he hissed, regretting being him once more, flinging the broken parts in his hands, dropping down into a squat as he groaned. " _Fuck. Fuck._ Fuck."

Remus pulled his palms up, pressing his skin against his face as he buried himself in his own hold. He wanted to vanish the room—he wanted to vanish himself. For one day, he didn't want to be him. He didn't want to be plagued by anxiety and controlling tendencies—Remus didn't want to think about healthy choices, and whether his joints hurt because he was busy or because something was wrong.

He didn't want to be in an almost ball in the warehouse where he was usually safe, feeling anything but.

"I'm sorry," Remus whimpered to the room, feeling the pieces of him fall apart and his legs give way to the wave of emotions he was feeling. "I just want…" letting his hands fall away, propping them up to stop his back from meeting the stone floor, he looked up at the rafters, feeling hopelessly helpless. "I don't want to be ill anymore."

* * *

Remus hesitated before knocking, unsure if his knuckles meeting the wood was a good idea or not—clearly, his brain thought differently. He had argued with himself the entire journey, and while his mind tried to convince him Sirius never wanted to see him again, Remus' _need_ to not fuck this up compelled him to still try. His brain had not liked that one second—as it diligently reminded him at each traffic light. The wood felt different as it met his skin, almost like the object recognised him and knew his mistake. He felt it simultaneously call out his arrival and mock him for coming.

He waited for several seconds—but they felt like minutes. His cold breath mingled with the air, twirling and swirling around his face, as he hoped it would mask him _if_ the door was ever opened.

Which it was.

"Oh," Sirius said, his tone surprised. He skirted around the door, closing it behind him as he stood on the front porch.

Remus dipped his head, moving his feet against the snow he brought up to the brick, before lifting his eyes so they could do battle with the daggers within Sirius'. "Can we talk?"

"I know I have a flair for dramatics, but even _I_ draw the line at freezing my bollocks off in the cold," Sirius said dryly, and Remus waited for a smirk, a wink— _anything_ that would soothe his fears.

"You have company?" Remus asked, nodding his head at the sound of laughter.

Sirius frowned. "Unless you count ice-cream as a friend, then _yeah_ , I have a whole bunch of them round. All melting as we watch some comedian."

"You're lactose intolerant," Remus said. "You made a point of telling me on our second date when I tried to order you a surprise dessert."

"First of all: They do lactose-free versions of ice-cream," Sirius groaned as he rolled his eyes. "Secondly...these aren't lactose-free, but Remus, they cost an arm and a leg. For ice-cream. Thirdly: I don't like surprises."

Remus cocked his head. "Not even _Christmas_ surprises?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Not _even_ Christmas surprises, Remus."

Remus tried not to flinch at the way his name was said. It sounded nothing like the way it was usually said when it came from those lips; it sounded as though he was being mocked, like it had been stupid of him to care for Sirius' bowels.

"What do you want anyway?" Sirius asked. "Not that I don't love standing out here, watching the snow land and set, making it all the easier for me to get to a 9 am shift start tomorrow."

Rubbing the back of his head, brushing his hat up and down his scalp, Remus cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologise."

"Cool."

"No, Sirius," Remus said, shaking his head. "It's not cool, it's not even near the scale of _cool_. I was… "

"A hormonal arse who _clearly_ needed a Snickers? A controlling dictator of rails? A hater of his own happiness—"

"I get it," Remus mumbled, his cheeks blushing a furious red as he stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. "All the same, with all those things being said, I'm sorry."

Sirius shrugged. "Cool, so you wanna come in?"

Remus opened his mouth, tilting his head in surprise as he blinked twice at the man. "You're-you're inviting _me_ in?"

"James is out. He's finally gotten Lily to agree to try a pub  _lunch_ —which he dressed to the nines for—but more of that at work, how else will we pass the time. Unless you wanna freeze to death, then fine. Stand out here and watch a man that isn't me, make jokes."

"You... _forgive_ me?" Remus asked.

Sirius sniggered, and Remus felt his cheeks spark a new shade of embarrassed he hadn't felt before. "I was never mad at you. Yeah, you were a dick, but I'm a dick 99.9% of the time. You were annoyed, _and I_ continued to push." Sirius turned the handle to his door, "I think even a perfectionist like you can understand someone makes mistakes."

"Sirius I don't know—"

"You can say, _yeah Padfoot, I'll help you with the three tubs of ice-cream_ —especially the chocolate one, because it's been sat in the freezer for a century—because even though you bought lactose-free ice-cream you're still a lactose intolerant who never eats ice-cream, so the sugar will wreck you, and you have an early shift."

Remus smirked softly. "I'll come in, Padfoot. I'll help you eat the ice-cream, and I'll let you kiss me until you need to go to the toilet."

Sirius laughed, opening the door fully as he entered with Remus following behind him. "I hope you know I'm not going to be leaving the bathroom tonight."

"So like our third date?" Remus asked, kicking the door closed behind him and removing his boots.

"Worse. I had half a pizza that night," Sirius laughed, "tonight I've eaten one _whole_ tub of Ben  & Jerry's."

Remus yanked his hat and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hooks. "Why would you even do that?"

"Call me a masochist," Sirius shrugged. "And that I wanted to call you later—if you didn't turn up—and blame you for upsetting me and making me shit myself."

"So you wanted to be dramatic and rub salt in the wounds?"

Sirius smiled, the two of them sinking down onto the sofa. "I think, Moony, you're finally starting to get who I am."

"I like who you are."

"Damn _right_ you do," Sirius added, hanging Remus a spoon.

* * *

Sirius _tried_ to be more respectful from that point, and that was what Remus focused on. That his boyfriend _tried._ After his earlier meltdown, Sirius attempted to take more of an interest in the way Remus worked—thinking that was the problem. It wasn't.

He had intended to share more, but when Christmas came in a flurry of over-time, and tiredness. They saw each other at work, but barely outside of it. Remus left work on Christmas Eve, dragging his backpack downcastly to his car, he was surprised when Sirius jumped out, nearly putting Remus in hospital. Sirius, who was over-the-top and not able to follow instructions had brought him a present, and demanded he open it there and then in the freezing cold.

Remus, who had also found himself unable to follow his own rule, pulled out a gift for Sirius, and the very reason his backpack had been so heavy. The two crowded over the hood of Remus' car, pulling the wrappings off their gifts, Remus found himself with two jumpers and a keyring of the moon, and Sirius with a leather jacket he had been going-on-and-on about from ASOS.

"This must have cost you loads?" Sirius said, his mouth falling open as he walked around the car. "Remus, I don't…"

"You do," Remus finished, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Merry Christ—"

But his words were cut off by Sirius' lips, a warm and yet passionate kiss that made Remus' knees turn to jelly and his heart hammer furiously in his chest.

New Year was an explosion of fireworks and loneliness as Remus saw the festivities from his bed, having come down with a cold that knocked him for six. By the time he was fit to return to work, and see Sirius, it was the second week of January and time for his next check-up at the hospital.

The anxiety had begun to rise, not telling Sirius had begun to make matters worse, and Remus, who was so terrified that if he lifted the lid on the entirety of his mind he would lose Sirius, began to walk on eggshells. He tried to rationalise the situation, remind himself that this was who he was, but Remus had already fallen in love and was far too afraid to let Sirius go. Even at the sacrifice of his own health.

Worst of it all, Remus had no real friends he could talk this over with—before this job, Remus had only ever had his father, and he wasn't all that much to talk with.

The secret, _however_ , was beginning to double in size, and the worry that Remus would be called a liar—especially when he had expressed twice to Sirius how much he _despised_ liars—only began to make him sweat profusely whenever he was around him.

In desperation, Remus opted for the only person he knew would have to listen to him, his nurse. The one who had been giving Remus blood transfusions since he was diagnosed—the downside, Fenrir wasn't all that much to talk to either, the man only spoke in grunts, groans, and sarcasm, something that wasn't helpful in this particular situation.

"So, Fenrir—"

"Needle, _Remus_. I'm holding a needle."

Remus swallowed, flexing his hand as Fenrir pierced the skin where his forearm met his upper arm. The opposite elbow place—the place for needles.

"Um, can I?" Remus asked, and Fenrir's groan was unmistakable. "You know how I'm a bit—"

"Annoying. _Chatty_? Shy and brave all at once? Cowardly yet righteous?" Fenrir said mockingly.

Narrowing his eyes, unflexing his hand, Remus shook his head. "No. But thank you, as always you're a confidence boost wrapped up in a nurses outfit." Pulling a face, Remus licked his lips. "You know how I have...how I'm…"

_How was this so hard?_ Remus thought to himself, especially when Fenrir knew _everything about him._ Nurse Greyback had been the nurse working the day he was diagnosed—the nurse assigned to his case, his constant reminder of who he was now. But, still, Remus couldn't say the words, even if they were already known.

The sound of wheels against the marble tiles pulled Remus from his thoughts, suddenly noticing Fenrir sitting in front of him giving his best, _I-have-a-job-to-do_ face. Remus could feel his face heating up under the stare being given by Fenrir.

"Y'know how I have…" Remus began once more, swallowing back everything holding him from speaking. "Depression." He paused, glancing his eyes around the room, waiting for the gasps or the watching eyes, but there were none.

Fenrir, however, was looking at him as if he had just said nothing at all. He was completely unfazed, the opposite of Remus.

"Well, I'm falling for someone, well fallen, and I want— _well I think I want_ —and I don't know... _want_?"

Fenrir smirked knowingly—just like he always did when Remus began to overshare. The positive of having the same nurse was the relief he never _ever_ had to explain himself again; the two of them were one, bonded over the diagnosis that changed Remus' life. He was Fenrir's first permanent case—and he never allowed Remus to forget. He, like Remus, loved members of the same sex and Fenrir had purposefully requested to remain as Remus' primary caregiver on hospital visits just to annoy Remus' conservative father—who did not believe in people who called themselves anything but straight.

At one stage in Remus' life, Fenrir's face had frightened him. Remus saw his face in his nightmares, lurking in the dark as the moon hid behind clouds. Everything Fenrir was happened to be tied to Remus' diagnosis, and when he didn't want to confront the fact he was ill, fearing what it would mean if he did, Remus, in turn, feared Fenrir.

That was long ago now. Time had gone on, Remus had accepted the crippling diagnosis, and Fenrir had remained by his side, as _annoying_ as ever.

"So, you're falling over your words because you have a mental illness? Big whoop, half the world has some box of issues, Remus. At least yours isn't murdering people to survive," Fenrir said as he bared his teeth for effect. "Tell him—it is a him, right _?"_

"On this occasion, yes," Remus replied. "I usually fall for men. Tonks seems to have been a _wonderful_ exception."

Fenrir shrugged, rolling his eyes for good measure. "She was less annoying than the other fellow, the ginger one," he said shaking his head. Remus watched as Fenrir began to scribble in his notes, the sound of the machine beeping soothed Remus. "The truth, as always, is your badge of honour, Remus. No one ever hated someone for the truth, unless it was overly hurtful like—that shirt is ugly as fuck," Fenrir said.

Remus nodded, as he began to chew his lip. "So tell him the truth?"

"And burn that shirt," Fenrir added looking Remus up and down. "I'm _serious_ , that is one fucking ugly shirt. Never come here in it again otherwise, well, I'll shred it off you and burn it. You've been warned."

* * *

Remus nervously tapped against the table. Six months. Six whole months of Remus having a boyfriend. Well, he hoped so anyway, especially after they had shared a Christmas, and now Valentine's day was quickly approaching and Remus had already purchased him a card—one that had caused an almost panic attack and nervous breakdown all at once.

He tried to steady his trembling hand, the tapping of his nails against the table annoying himself, never mind the other customers sat in Starbucks trying to defrost. Only England could have snow _after_ Christmas, the few droplets beforehand not settling or remaining overnight—much to Sirius' annoyance who had wished and wished for a white Christmas.

Biting the inside of his lip, Remus tried to rehearse what he was going to say—how he would even bring the conversation up. _Sirius, hi, um I am about to tell you something I don't tell anyone, and since you're my boyfriend—you are my boyfriend right?_ Remus shook his head. Why even in his head he sounded like a desperate twat, he did not know.

The door chimed, and Remus looked up, meeting silver eyes that made him melt into the seat. He watched as Sirius approached, removing his scarf and hat, displaying the necklaced with odd tattoos—such as the one Remus had been running his teeth down two nights ago; the hair that was similar to a rock star, that Remus didn't fear running his hands through. His boyfriend— _or-possibly-not-boyfriend_ —was a dream, and Remus never wanted to wake up from it.

"Hey," Sirius beamed as he sat opposite him, "I've missed you."

Remus felt his cheeks burn. "Missed you, too," he mumbled in embarrassment.

Shrugging his jacket from his shoulders, Remus tried to not be distracted by the thin vest—the one barely covering any of Sirius—and the muscles honed from working in the stockroom. The things Remus wanted to do rather than have this conversation—even if he knew he had to do it.

"Y'aright?"

"Yes. No. Well," Remus began before clearing his throat. "You know how I have _Lupus_ , and how I—"

"—You want a coffee, or a tea or something?" Sirius asked interrupting Remus. Sirius' eyes narrowing to see better at the display board.

"Um no, but what I wanted—" Remus tried again.

Sirius tilting his head. "What about a cake?—"

" _No_! I'm trying to tell you I have anxiety!" Remus snapped at the same time the barista dropped a cup and the entire place went silent and his face began to itch from embarrassment.

Remus' stomach had dropped to his feet, his ears had begun to burn, and his heart had suddenly accelerated as his brain began imagining every pair of eyes on him. He looked down, staring at the pattern on the table, attempting to ignore Sirius' stare and anyone else's.

"I also have depression, but we can save that party trick for another day if you like?" Remus embarrassingly joked.

"Wait. You...you have—"

"A mental health disorder, maybe two, I'm not entirely sure" Remus whispered, finishing his sentence. "I could have had them _regardless,_ but it's likely to do with the side-effects of the billions of tablets and various… _anyways,_ I'm embarrassed about it, and I was scared of telling you before you've already taken on a great deal of charity with my lupus and—"

"You _aren't_ a charity, Remus," Sirius interjected, causing Remus to look up. "You aren't. And I won't let you talk about my boyfriend like that," Sirius' smile widening at his own words.

Remus swallowed, trying not to seem surprised. "You still, like want to be my boyfriend?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I mean, my boyfriend can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but I have one, and he's twice the man you are." Sirius bit his lip seductively. "For one, he has lupus and refuses to let it slow him down. He has anxiety and depression and felt I was so important to him he wanted to tell me," Remus began to mimic Sirius' smile, suddenly relaxing. "And it might be too soon, but when you know—you _just_ know, but I love him, and he's my safe zone and my friend and—"

Warmth spread over Remus' chest, and there was no greater feeling. His mum had loved him, his dad had loved him, but this love, it felt different. It felt rich and unlike anything else—it made Remus float and feel free from any weight he had ever had. He wasn't Remus the sick boy, he was Remus who was loved—and it felt fucking amazing.

"You love me?" Remus asked, trying not to grin like a fool.

Sirius nodded, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks—but Remus knew he would blame the cold, Sirius Black never got embarrassed after all.

"Good," Remus responded, placing his hand flat on the table as his fingers walked slowly across the cold surface before weaving into Sirius'. "Because I love you too."

His eyebrows rising, Sirius smirked before moving his palm over to press against Remus'. "That's alright then."

"Yeah," Remus smiled. "It is."

Sirius cleared his throat, tapping their hands lightly against the table as Remus laughed to himself. "You want an English breakfast with soy milk because your boyfriend is lactose intolerant and you feel _uber_ guilty about drinking cows milk?" Remus opened his mouth, but Sirius continued. "And you'll have one sugar—because it's Starbucks, and that's a treat—but anywhere else you'd have a sweetener." Remus began to shake his head in surprise. "And because I'm buying, not you, you'll have a toastie, a cheese and tomato one—because tomatoes are part of a balanced diet, and you think it allows you a pass."

"Fuck," Remus whispered, standing up as he pulled Sirius with him, thankful their height was similarly matched. "I _love_ you."

Using his other hand to pull on the vest top, Remus brought Sirius' lips to his, pressing their lips together—solidifying their confessions. He could be sure his heartbeat matched Sirius', never before syncing with someone like he was currently—so much so, he didn't want to let go of Sirius, not that he ever did.

Time slowed, no noises interrupting and no embarrassment forcing Remus to stop his antics. With Sirius, he always felt braver, he _always_ felt like a better person. He was thankful when their lips broke, Remus still felt the same—still floating on the high of _I love you_ and that kiss.

"Fuck, your lips are amazing, Moony."

Remus snorted, sitting himself down quickly as he met the eye of a disgusted customer. "Get me a tea, Pads."

Sirius nodded, walking off with a smirk before halting and turning to face Remus with a blank expression. "You called me Pads?"

Shrugging, Remus rested his chin on his hand. "I love you, Pads."

"I love you too, Moony."

* * *

**oOo**


	6. Spring

**Spring**

* * *

Date nights were a prospect Remus had initially hated but soon came to love. At first, Sirius had insisted on showing Remus London, making his palms sweat and his heart-race heighten. When March arrived, and Sirius' long list of places to explore continued, Remus shakily spoke up, saying that tonight he would choose the location, and Sirius could pick the next.

Tonight Remus had picked Nando's. The place specialised in _Mozambican_ _-Portuguese_ style dishes that mainly involved chicken, with various spice levelled Peri-Peri sauces. It had been a place Remus had never been too before dating Sirius, something Sirius had found shocking when he had learnt this.

Now it was at least his tenth visit, and the _visit scratch-card_ in his pocket burned as he stared at the menu.

"I have my card," Remus said, his eyes not leaving the cardboard menu. "I am entitled to a free meal."

Sirius pulled an ' _oo'_ expression. "Someone is fancy. Did you bring me here to rub the salt in my wound, Moony?"

Sniggering at Sirius' pun, Remus shook his head. "Nah, I was, but I am a little unsure if I want my usual."

He had ordered the same food at every visit, a chicken burger, no lettuce or tomato, and peri-peri chips with spicy rice. It was delicious, and all of his. Remus had a certain hatred for finger-food, especially when it came to sharing, but as he glanced over the 'platters' he wasn't sure if he wanted to break his cardinal rule or not.

"Fancy _sharing_ a platter?" Remus asked, looking up to find Sirius' expression wide and surprised. "Drop the expression."

Rising from his seat, he quickly glanced over at the till before taking a deep breath as he levelled his breathing at the small three-person queue.

"Y'want _me_ to go up and order?"

Shaking his head, Remus looked down, stared down into the calm silver eyes he knew always soothed him. "No, I'll be...alright, I mean, it's just an order...right?"

Remus found himself astonished when the queue dwindled upon his arrival, stepping up immediately to the cashier as he shakily ordered their food. He noticed the woman's smile, how calming it was, and how bright her blonde hair was. She had a dream-like voice, soothing but also direct, and as he stared at her name badge, he thanked Luna for being so helpful.

It took two trips for Remus to fill the drinks, retrieve the sauce and cutlery, before he seated himself opposite Sirius again, feeling the chest pain—he had been experiencing since he stood up—fade to non-existence.

Sirius, in his usual eager manner, clapped his hands together. "So, exciting news, y'know how I told you that Prongs is making that _drunk-mate-app_?"

Remus smirked to himself, taking a large sip of his drink as the cold glass against his palm cooled him. "Ah yes, the ' _Find Padfoot App'_?"

Sirius, who was handing a napkin and the knife and fork to Remus, pulled a mischievous face. "Well, he's got an investor in it, and with the money, he's going to help me out."

"But you're rich?"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius groaned. "No, Moony. My _parents_ are rich, and I am _disowned_ by my parents. I'm getting from A to B to C, that isn't rich."

Remus shook his head as he leant back in his chair, the smell of peri-peri chicken drifting up his nose. "Most people who are _getting by_ do not get to B nevermind C, but for the sake of my sanity and enjoying my Nando's, what is he helping you with?"

Sirius made sure to puff out his chest, swishing his hair from his shoulders as he smirked proudly. "Well, he's going to help me with my album."

"Your... _album?_ "

"Yeah, I told you…didn't I?" Sirius asked. "I said that Lily had joked that I could play at their wedding when y'know, they marry, remember? I said Prongs almost fainted? He fell on the floor, we thought he'd cracked his head open." Sirius snorted, shaking his head as he fought laughing before he met the stare Remus was giving him. "I...didn't tell you, _did I_? Fuckin' _shit bag_."

Remus pursed his lips. "No. No, you did not. _You said_ you played the guitar, and that you loved music, but we did not discuss an _album? Or_ James hitting his head, but that's a discussion for when I've had food. You're...making music?"

Sirius pulled the straw from his mouth with a grin and wiggled his shoulders as he pumped his brows up and down. Remus was thinking a ridiculous amount of things like how Sirius still looked attractive as he did his weird porn-star eyebrow movements or that he hoped Sirius would let him take his food off the platter first. But the one he kept coming back to was, _my boyfriend makes music._

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well," Sirius said in his _annoying-I'm-about-to-lay-some-truths_ voice, "I thought I did, didn't I? But I guess, since you're _kinda_ the inspiration, I didn't want to burst the bubble of it being a secret. If I had to guess that is, I mean I had _assumed_ I had told you."

Remus let out a laugh. "Well, you didn't, but I'm so glad you're doing something with it. I've heard you sing, it's beautiful."

Sirius had been mid-gawking to see where the food was when he turned to face Remus again. "When did you hear me?"

He didn't mean to, but Remus cackled. It was a cackle from surprise and shock, because if anyone spent five minutes with Sirius they would get some rendition of a song. Whether it were singing along with the radio or Sirius' own remix including the task at hand—Remus' favourite was, _I'm going to put mayo on you_ to the same beat as _I'll make love to you._

"You sing _all the time_. I imagine you _shit and sing._ "

Sirius shrugged with a smirk. "It would be rude to allow such a prize to exit my body to anything less than a song. Confetti is what it truly deserves."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Remus muttered.

Being Sirius, he was still laughing as the waitress brought over their food. And it was monstrous—one whole chicken between two of them, with four sides. As his eyes widened to an impossible size, Sirius began to laugh even louder at his expense.

"Tuck in, Moony. Tonight we roll out of the door," Sirius said with a hearty bellow.

Remus stabbed his fork into the nearest chip, watching the steam rise as his mind moved to smoke machines and gigs, Sirius on stage, singing directly at him.

* * *

April arrived with limited sunshine and rainy, but warm days, and Sirius took it upon himself to take Remus out. He felt that he _always_ had the best ideas—or so he _told everyone_ whenever he got the chance. Looping his fingers around Remus', he dragged his boyfriend up the hill in Wimbledon, swinging the basket in his other hand as Remus protested that walking classed as exercise. It had been a unique day; the sun had remained around London for three days, and neither of them had any _definitive_ plans and. Although, they _always_ had plans to Netflix and _not-so-chill_ , Sirius still took it upon himself to drag them both out into the fresh air.

Sirius, surprisingly, remembered to buy drinking glasses for their picnic, and food that Remus liked—not just what _he_ liked, which was no small feat. He'd ensured he got the green grapes and not the mixed bunch, because Remus had an apparent distaste for purple, and if the two bunches touched one another, Remus couldn't eat them.

And, most importantly, Sirius even remembered a blanket—or borrowed one from Lily.

When they reached the top, neither of them spoke. The heat from the sun was still across the park, even though the sun had begun to settle behind the houses. Sirius took in the pinks and oranges painted across the sky, the way the clouds seemed to be drawn on, and the way London glimmered at their feet. The views were breathtaking, just like Remus; the way the light danced between the buildings, kissing the concrete high-rises of London made the city seem somewhat more appealing than it did when you were walking through it. It was a sight neither of them would ever see again, and they both knew that.

Carefully placing the basket down, Sirius pulled out his phone as he kept his other hand looped with Remus'. He didn't care about the dampness building between their palms, Sirius _didn't_ want to let go.

"If I turn us around, will you smile for one second and take a photo with me," Sirius asked quietly, not wanting to speak too loud in case it disturbed the world. "If you say no, I warn you, I'll push you down the hill and make you eat grass."

"Well," Remus said with a chuckle, "when you put it like that, I can hardly say no."

Sirius turned his head, giving Remus a wink as the air dispelled of tension and filled with love. Guiding Remus to turn around, Sirius clicked the camera app and turned it to the front-facing camera as he lined up the sky with them.

"You ready to shatter my phone with our beauty?"

Remus snorted. " _Always_. Shattering phones with my...what was it, _beauty,_ is my prime hobby."

Sirius turned the phone so the camera was landscape. "Vain aren't we, Moony?"

Remus smiled, a breathtaking smile that almost— _almost—_ stole all of Sirius. It made his heart stop, his blood pause, and his stomach do a flip. If he hadn't already been in love, Sirius would have fallen. 

In a split second, Sirius moved, turning to press his lips to Remus' cheek as his thumb pressed on the centre button on the camera. The flash lit them, and Sirius' lips spread into a grin against Remus' soft and smooth skin. Even _if_ the photo turned out horrendous, the moment was forever imprinted into Sirius' mind. It was the background and screensaver for the rest of his days.

The flash dimmed to nothing as Sirius moved his lips from Remus' cheek, only to find him moving so their lips could meet. It could have been the surrounding view or it could have been the moment, but Sirius lost himself.

For one single kiss, he forgot he was Sirius was a family of failures; he forgot about causing mischief and making life hard for people and instead thought about the man he was kissing and how he wanted everything to be better for _him_.

The kiss, like all kisses, was over too quickly.

"Let's look then," Remus whispered, wiping his thumb over Sirius' cheek and bringing him back to the hilltop.

Sirius shook his head, ridding himself of the drowsiness of the kiss as he lifted his phone. The image itself was not a disappointment. With the sky painted in colours only an artist could dream up and the skyline littered with buildings that looked far from the ones he knew, were a couple captured in a blissful second of happiness. Remus was wearing a truthful smile that made his eyes glimmer, and Sirius was kissing his cheek, adoring the man beside him and showing it with his eyes clenched and the corner of his grin. Even his beard and tied up hair looked somewhat close to model worthy, and Sirius began to grin as he stared at it.

"Wow," Sirius whispered.

"Indeed," Remus said in a similar tone, "I actually like that one."

Sirius raised his brow. "Double wow."

Remus shrugged with a grin. "I think that's a windowsill picture, don't you?"

Nodding, Sirius locked his phone and put it away. "I love you, I really, _really_ do. I don't show it _all_ the time; I don't even act like it most of the time. But I do. Never question it."

"I won't. I don't. I promise," Remus said with a reassuring nod.

"Good," Sirius added, clearing his throat. "Shall we?" He suggested, pointing to the basket before crouching down, removing the blanket he had carefully folded as he wiped the single happy tear he had let fall.

* * *

Peter, or Pete, was James' app friend, and Remus instantly realised why he was so likeable. He had a soft face, and he was full of compliments. James, who treated him like a younger brother, continued to ' _aw'_ at him behind his back—much to Sirius' amusement.

Remus watched from the sidelines as the two best friends interacted with Pete, and it was hard not to notice a brother-like similarity. Sirius and James the two older brothers, close in age, and Pete, the youngest brother—although he was the same age as the rest.

"You seen the app, Remas?"

Sirius laughed. "Re- _mus._ It is odd though, Pete, like goodness sake, get a better name, Moony!"

Sticking his tongue out, Sirius fluffed the front of his hair up as he sent Remus a wink—causing something in his stomach to swell with both lust and love. He loved him, the cocky, arrogant fool on the other side of the room.

Putting up his middle finger, Remus cocked his eyebrow as he painted on a Sirius-worthy smirk. "Swivel, _Serious Black_. But no Pete, I haven't."

"You _have_ to show him, James," Pete exclaimed, nearly bursting with joy. "James has the prototype, he's the brains, I'm just the fancy designing-machine. Well sorta machine, I mean James could probably get it going without me. I don't know why I'm even here."

Pete's nervous laugh made Remus' heart sink.

James clapped Pete on the back, making the man nearly choke on air. "Don't put yourself down like that, mate. I needed you—you needed me, this is teamwork."

Retrieving his phone from his back pocket, James held it out for Remus—who remained sat on the top of the kitchen side still, as James usually was—giving Remus a nod.

"It's open, hit Map Friend—not an original name, but we are still bouncing ideas."

Taking the phone gently, never having liked being responsible for other people's possession, Remus nervously tapped the icon. For a second it loaded before an array of options presented themselves, and Remus felt his palms get moist from stress.

"So, how does it work again?" Remus asked, holding the larger iPhone in his hand—wondering why on _Earth_ anyone needed a bigger phone. "Because I have no idea what I'm doing."

James lept from the counter, pushing his glasses up as he pulled out a chair, sliding himself against the back of it. "You put your thumb over the pad—yeah like that, and then you click event… there," James said, indicating to the green box labelled event, "and create—use the plus, there you go! And you know, time, date, etc."

Remus clicked some fake information in, checking on James' expression to tell if he was doing it correctly.

"That's it," James exclaimed. "Easy!"

Frowning, Remus nodded. "So, what does it do?"

Sirius who, as promised, was keeping out of the way, scoffed. Remus tried to not shoot him a smirk, but James—being quicker—had thrown a peanut directly at his friend, something Pete laughed at enthusiastically.

"It's basically to help facilitate parties and events when people wander and get lost on a night out. We used to lose Pads over there all the time or, when I was studying, I'd lose Wormy and find him outside trying to flirt with a girl," James explained, pointing to the _Find Me_. "But, now if he was to be logged in, everyone in that event—like a bar crawl, for example—can see where everyone in that event is."

Remus grinned. "This is good, James. Brilliant even, both of you."

"Don't inflate his head too much, Moony. He won't fit through Lily's door, never mind be allowed between her legs—"

Sirius was silenced by another peanut being thrown at him, hitting him directly in the forehead. Pete, who'd taken a drink, spat the liquid out with a laugh, which only caused Sirius to erupt into his own outlandish laughter. The two of them sounded something close to madmen.

Fighting a laugh of his own, Remus turned back to the phone. "You know what would be good… turning it into a map, so to speak. Like a group one where we could just look and see where the other person is." Remus slid his thumb over the event icon. "Because an event is useful for one time, but say Lily was walking home from work, she could be a part of your _contacts_ and you could see. Obviously, the other person would have to agree—"

"—unless you did it to their number, like find their _number_ —"

" _Exactly_!" Remus exclaimed. "Like a magical map, and a group you have to be a V.I.P. for. So families could set one up so they know where their children are, or friends could in case you know, their friend has lupus—"

"Ha _-ha,_ " Sirius snorted.

James, whose eyes were wide with possibilities, began to grin. "Like pirates! With their own secret map and handy eyepatch, and this is our ship."

Remus tilted his head from side to side. "Hmm, it doesn't sound _quite_ as catchy."

"What about Marauder? Makes you sound dangerous and roguish," Sirius suggested, and Remus began to smirk in agreement.

James looked over his shoulder as he met Pete's eye line. "I like it," Pete nodded. "Thanks, guys."

"It's nothing, Wormy," Sirius smiled, "You don't need to thank us, we four are _marauders!_ With a map to treasure and the ability to _never_ lose oneself again!" Sirius bellowed like a Braveheart speech. "We have Moony: both brave and animalistic. Wormy: kind-hearted and a friend to all. Prongs: the biggest heart with the hardest punch. And I, Padfoot: _perfection_."

James grabbed the bag of peanuts from the table and threw them at Sirius', the packet smacking him in the face. "Bloody idiot," he grumbled before looking down at his phone, needing to unlock it again. "I'll make a group, and we can have a password—'cause without it we can't get in, and–hmm—it can be– Oo I have it: _I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_." Remus looked up shooting them both a look.

Sirius laughed. "Childhood thing. I used to say it to Mrs and Mr Potter when James tried to blame me for something—"

"Which you had always done," James interrupted, before turning his attention back to Remus. "I think I know what to call the app."

Pete moved closer. "What?"

Grinning, James shot a look to the others. "The Marauders Map."

* * *

Remus slowly placed the bowl down in front of Sirius, hoping to the high heavens that his chilli-con-carne was up to his boyfriends' standard. Cooking for himself—or even his dad—had meant Remus had never needed to worry about high-quality. For one, he had eaten a lot of hospital food, so anything other than that was a bonus. Sirius, however, hadn't; he had no _idea_ of how bad food could actually taste—well, until he met Remus of course.

Sirius rubbed the end of his nose, the cute way he always did when he wanted Remus' attention, and like every time before when he had done it, he had Remus' full attention. In truth, anytime Sirius was around, Remus' full attention was on him, a scary thought to think, never mind to admit.

"What?" Remus said warily, watching a smirk innocently crawl up Sirius' face.

If Remus had more patience, he wouldn't have asked. He would have purposefully waited until Sirius cracked, and was forced to spill everything just to get it out in the open. Tonight, however, Remus wanted to enjoy their meal without the awkward ' _will-he-ask-me_ ' atmosphere.

"Well, I know something you don't know," Sirius said in a sing-song sort of voice, and Remus narrowed his eyes. "And that something affects something else, which means—"

"We can play this wonderful riddle game all night?" Remus said sarcastically, his eyebrow raised.

Sirius picked up his fork, moving the rice around in the sauce, purposefully pouting his lips to elongate the moment and making Remus wait. Fuck if he both loved and hated it. He loved it because it was Sirius to a tee and he adored Sirius; he hated it because it sent his anxiousness into overdrive, a need to know building in him until it affected his mood and patience.

"Prongs is going to be asking a certain Prongs-lette to become, possibly, Mr and Mrs Prongs tonight," Sirius smirked, focusing on the bowl in front of him—not meeting Remus' eyes on purpose, not until Remus dropped his fork. "Wicked, right?"

"Holy...that's amazing. When? How?" Remus began, a grin beginning to grow over his face—a happiness filling him.

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. "Don't be a girl, Moony. But tonight, some restaurant that's Lily's favourite. You know what this means, you know, other than me being a wedding singer by night—what a lucky man you are, having such a talented—"

Remus leant back in his chair, his hand dropping to his lap as he retained the smile on his face. "Sirius…" Remus warned.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius groaned. "Fine, ugh. I mean I am talented. But. This all means..."

Remus felt sick. It could have been from apprehension, but he was sure it was more to do with the fact someone he knew was getting engaged—meaning he had now stepped into the age where people got older. He swallowed, pushing the newly forming lump down as far as he could. He dropped his hands under the table, placing them on his lap, running them over his trousers as he tried to wipe the sweat from his palms.

"Which means," Sirius continued, much louder, as though he knew he had lost Remus. "I'm going to need a housemate. This might be a bit forward, but if you don't ask, you don't get, right? I mean, and I had this _crazy_ idea that you, Moony, would—"

Then his palms dried, his heart slowed, and the lump vanished. Remus felt time slow, the tick of the clock becoming a tick, tick, rather than a tick-tock-tick, and a smile began to creep over Remus' mouth—as though his brain and heart had synced to be one.

This was right, and he didn't need to question it, and he didn't need to linger. Remus wanted this, he knew it, he felt it in his bones.

"Yes," Remus answered breathlessly, not allowing Sirius to finish. "Sirius, yes—"

"—You didn't even let me finish," Sirius laughed, placing his fork down, uncaring for the rice grain on his chin. "It is a big decision, and I know you like to think about these things. I want you to be _sure_ , Remus."

Remus nodded, a vein in his neck pulsating under the heightened stress and excitement. "I'm sure," he smiled truthfully, "I _want_ to live with you."

The most beautiful, sun-eclipsing grin passed over Sirius' mouth, and Remus was sure he was going to float over the table to him. He felt light, and as Sirius stood, moving around the table between them, Remus didn't feel scared—even if he had just jumped off a theoretical cliff.

"You make me so happy, Moony."

Remus ran his hand over Sirius' cheek, feeling his stubble against his palm as his thumb brushed the rice grain to the floor. "You aren't so annoying yourself, Sirius."

Everything moved much quicker after that evening. Every chance Sirius got, he reminded Remus that he would be moving in. Remus had a shower, Sirius reminded him it would be their shower; Remus walked around shirtless making breakfast, Sirius commented that he could be naked when it was theirs.

Even though it was everything Remus had wanted, it was still odd when he packed up his room at his father's house. Yes, he had spent more time at Sirius' than his own anyways, but it was the fact he had lived here for years. He had memories embedded in the walls, both good and bad, and there was a charisma about the house, as though Remus' mum was still here, somewhere.

He hadn't been prepared for the emotionally awkward farewell with his father that happened an entire day before; finding that Lyall instead made himself scarce the day Remus moved out, and it hurt far more than Remus would have liked to allow himself to feel.

Everything he owned— _or cared about at least_ —fit into his car, and it was a melancholy feeling when he realised as much. The drive over to Sirius'—or his, now—seemed longer than usual. The _Arctic Monkeys_ were the soundtrack to his drive, and while he was happy and content, there was also an air of insecurity and uneasiness Remus hadn't experienced before.

Remus was scared. Terrified even. He didn't want Sirius to hate him especially when Remus knew how difficult he was to live with. He also didn't want _either of them_ to change, but most of all, Remus didn't want to fail. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his mind erratic with worries and concerns he couldn't shake, even if the softness of the guitars usually lulled it all away.

"You're just scared," he whispered only to himself. "You're afraid, and you should be this is a big step. But you can do it. You can, Remus John Lupin. You can—Christ, full-naming myself is scary, why does Sirius do this."

Remus took a deep breath, shaking away his ramblings as he tried to relax his shoulders as he slipped the gear stick into first, pulling off perfectly in the most imperfect car. Streets passed as he tried to focus on the words, on the beat, and not his racing thoughts. Because, if he settled on his thoughts, he was scared he'd turn around and go back the way he came—and even in the midst of all of the panic, Remus knew he didn't want that.

The song changed, softer and calmer, coming through his speakers. The music suddenly fell over him like snow, painting his woes in something else, and Remus began to breathe—really breathe. Remus' mouth began to hum the song, quickly thinking if he had actually picked up his coat when he looked to the passenger side and saw it there.

The corners of his lips twisted into a smile, his thumb circling over the steering wheel, his grip relaxing.

" _It's harder and harder to get you to listen_ " Remus whispered as his head shook as he laughed, fixing his eyes on the road. It was ironic because that was precisely what he was doing—worrying instead of listening to himself.

He knew he was leaving the safety of his childhood home, for something unknown, but he didn't want to run back, if anything he wanted to run even faster into Sirius' arms. Remus wanted a change, he wanted to be the change. He wanted to wake up with a smile, instead of blurrily looking at his phone to see if Sirius had texted him, which then made him smile.

Pressing down on the indicator, hearing the ticking sound even more prominently than normal, turning down the busy road that would lead to Sirius'—to his _new_ home.

His fingers began to tap with the music, remembering Sirius' fingers strumming chords one night as he made a note to ask Sirius if he could play their music. The next song came on, moving through his bones with each beat of the drum, adding a sudden dramatic smile to Remus' face as the day began to glow.

As Alex Turner took over, his words flowing through the speakers, Remus relaxed into the car seat as he hit the wheel with each beat of the drum, singing, ' _Do I Wanna Know_ ' with the backing singers as he allowed a relaxed and honest smile passed over his face.

* * *

**oOo**


	7. Summer & Autumn

**Summer & Autumn**

* * *

The best thing about waking up  _with_ Sirius was waking up _beside_ Sirius. Remus' arms could stretch out, feeling the familiar muscles and skin, his eyes slowly fluttering open as he took in the tattoos' that covered his arms and chest, watching as Sirius slept soundly. This happened most mornings. On occasion, one in particular, Remus witnessed the worst thing about waking up _with_ Sirius.

Sirius had been stood over Remus, his eyes wide with excitement and energy, and a proud smirk across his face. The sun attempted to creep through the curtains, and he didn't need to look at his phone to know that it was far too early for Remus to be awake. For one, his stomach wasn't growling, and secondly, Remus knew the exact position of the sun when it was _11 am or later,_ and he knew with how low it was, that it was much earlier than that. 

"Rise and shine, Moon-man—"

Muttering, "— _Moon-man_?—" Remus allowed his eyes to flicker open, finding the exact predicament he hadn't counted on waking up too.

"Ah," Sirius said excitedly, dropping down to his knees—one either side of Remus, "you're awake."

Rubbing his face, trying to wake himself as quickly as he was able too, Remus peered one open eye at Sirius. The look on his face, the mischievous grin and aura of joy, made Remus very suspicious. If he was awake, his stomach would be going—groaning and twisting as he tried to work out exactly what Sirius had done—but he didn't have the time for that, not currently.

"Ten points to Sirius."

Sirius frowned, tilting his head as his eyes looked up. " _Ten_? I am deserving of _at least_ ten for just being awesome, Moony. How about...a hundred— _no_ —a million?"

Remus shook his head, blinking furiously as he tried to stop his vision from blurring. "Sirius?"

Nodding, Sirius' eyes fixed back to him. "I made you... _breakfast_."

"You made... _why_?"

Tugging the covers down slowly, Sirius slowly began to expose Remus' bare chest, hungrily staring at him. "Breakfast is the most _important_ meal of the day."

Snatching the covers back, bringing them up to his neck, Remus used his other hand to point to his eyes. "You hate breakfast, you said it was a cop-out to make sure you didn't have sugar for breakfast."

"I still believe that."

Remus frowned as he began to knowingly tug on the lie, knowing with a few more questions—specifically targeted—he would unravel it all and have a peaceful morning. Sirius was brilliant, funny, and very cute, but he was also terribly predictable, and often only did things for others if it benefited him.

"Why is today so important?" Remus asked. "Because my birthday was a few months ago, and your birthday was a while ago, and I am very confused as to why you're ruining my fabulous lie-in with hijinks and lies about breakfast when we both know you despise eating in the morning."

Sirius stared dumbfounded, and even Remus had to admit he was a little impressed with himself. His brain was barely awake and yet, he had conducted an argument that would have made his tutor proud.

"I am intelligent," Remus added with a wink.

Tilting his head back, Sirius let out a heavy sigh through his nose. "Fine," he whined. "God, I try and do something nice—"

"Si-ri-us," Remus sang, cutting him off before glancing purposefully into his eyes. "Can we reach the point today, I really want to sleep."

He pouted—Sirius Black pouted—and Remus wished he had his phone to hand so he could take a picture and send it to the others. Remus also despised how handsome he looked as he did it.

"Alright," Sirius said, raising his hands, "I tried to make you breakfast, and I got an omelette stuck to the ceiling."

Remus gawked. And then he stared some more. There were no words, no feelings, no crazy hammering of anxiety at the idea of the ceiling or the possibility of the omelette going off and smelling horrendous forever.

"Moony, can you speak?"

Nodding in response, his eyes glazing over as the long-awaited worries began to flow over him. "How well cooked was it, and is it dripping or firmly stuck?"

Sirius thought for a second too long. "Stuck, firmly I think. I tried to get it back in the pan...with the pan, but I had no luck."

Taking several deep breaths, Remus tried to come up with a plan, his fingers twitching beside him—unsure if getting out of bed now would be wise or waiting till later. Not that he'd be able to sleep now, his mind would be firmly fixed on the array of eggs stuck to the kitchen ceiling, and he would just be lay there attempting to ignore it even though he knew he couldn't.

"Move."

"What?" Sirius asked.

Remus tugged on the sheets. "I need too...I don't know, assess the _fucking_ situation—"

"You swore," Sirius gasped as he moved off of him, sliding beside him as Remus flung the sheets back.

He grabbed a t-shirt, not wanting omelette to touch his skin—or anything else that could be within the egg. Remus forced his head through, the level of irrational thinking reaching a new height as he tried to tell himself, _it might not be that bad._

It was though. If Remus was truthful, his mind had gone quite easy on Sirius. The kitchen looked close to a war zone. There was cracked eggs everywhere, as though Sirius had thrown them at an invisible ghost in the attempt of winning a water-balloon fight, but with eggs. The frying pan was twisted, the handle looked as if it had melted. All of the counters were covered in flour—for reasons Remus had no idea on and wasn't sure he could handle if asked. The floor had butter-smeared, and he only hoped that it was because Sirius had dropped the tub—but he found that in the sink, bobbing in the half-filled bowl.

But all of that didn't come close to the stench; the horrid burning pan and failed attempt smell that hung in the air, clinging for all it had to the room.

"I know that it looks really bad, but I just want to say—"

Remus rotated on his heels to stare at him, his lips rolled against one another so tightly it stung. "Sirius," he began, pressing his hands together in a style similar to praying, "I'm going to ask this in the nicest of ways, yeah?"

Sirius nodded, appearing innocent and remarkably happy—as though he didn't know the explosion called Remus that was about to rain down on him.

"What the actual fucking-fuck did you fucking do?" Remus snapped, his voice several octaves higher, a vein in his head threatening to burst. "I mean, come on! You look like you had a flour fight with a fucking ghost, a butter battle with ground demons and I have zero fucking clue why the frying pan looks like it went to fucking Mordor and back? Like. Explain yourself before the twisted handle of that frying pan goes somewhere you'll like, until you fucking won't."

Sirius didn't speak.

" _Sirius!_ " He snapped again, but he didn't flinch, didn't budge.

Not a sound could be heard other than Remus' heavy, angry breathing, and it had a surprisingly calm effect on him.

"Moony," Sirius said in a relaxing tone—one that didn't match him. "Mordor?"

He heard him laugh, sweet and light, and Remus found himself slowly unclenching the fists he hadn't known had been clenched. Remus found his pulse slowed to almost normal, even as he took another glance around the room, but his eyes still came back to his smirk—Sirius' smirk. It was only then, in the continued silence and almost peacefulness after Sirius spoke, that the visual calmness began to descend over Remus—and the throbbing vein vanished—did Sirius speak.

"You think you'd mind helping me clean up?" Sirius asked carefully, his face crestfallen. "Because the ghost won, and my pride is already hurt."

Remus found a smile that came as he sighed. "Who loses to a _ghost_?"

Sirius flicked him in the chin, and Remus hated how it elicited a laugh. "I really tried to do something nice."

Placing a hand on his cheek, Remus nodded. "I sorta knew that I promise. But you have a ridiculously messy way of showing it."

Chuckling, Sirius nudged him lightly. "You're really quite scary when you're angry."

Remus laughed as he tried to move across the butter-covered floor. "I'm a wolf, remember. I bite."

He was sure he heard Sirius mutter, ' _I wish you fuckin' would_ '.

* * *

It began as August usually did. Hot weather topless men—who really needed to wear a top—and ice-cream vans blaring past at all hours. He curled into Sirius on the sofa, his phone on the coffee table beside his, the two of them trying to fight the heat and pretend they both weren't uncomfortable.

The weather was somewhat unbearable, but Remus couldn't bring himself to pull away from Sirius—until their phones went off simultaneously.

> **James created a group text.**
> 
> **James added, Sirius** _ **, Remus, Pete,**_ **and** _**Lily.**_
> 
> **James:** _Guess who is back in town._

Remus gave a questioning look to Sirius, not at all understanding why he too was added to a group chat.

> **James:** _Your second favourite person—after Remus—Pads._

For some reason, he felt his mouth go dry. Remus carefully turned his head, ready to hear about an ex-boyfriend who broke his heart or a lover he had never gotten over. His hands felt clammy, even more so now.

He heard Sirius' nails meet his phone, and Remus felt so nervous he wanted to crack in half.

> **Sirius:** _Marl is back._

Marl, Remus thought bitterly. It made him almost want to snort in disgust. His mind could only jump to the kind of man, _Marl_ was; the kind of man Marl had been to Sirius.

Jealousy hadn't been something Remus had _ever_ really felt, not really. He had felt something similar when he had been on the ward, and Fenrir had been pulled to another boy. But this was something else, it felt like fire, and it sat on his chest, twisting and igniting his insides, making his hard to focus.

Sirius brushed his hand over Remus' knee, and he turned his head, finding a soft smile that Remus wished he could wipe clean. He wasn't sure if the smile was for him or for _Marl_. But Remus desperately wished it was _all_ for him.

> **James:** _Bingo._
> 
> **James:** _Lily helped her get a job while she's here for two weeks. Guess where._

Remus stood, forcing Sirius' hand to fall from his knee as he caught the hurt look on Sirius' face. He began to pace, three steps forward, turn—

> **Lily:** _Your place! You never said they were hiring!_
> 
> **Lily:** _She's so excited to see you._

Remus' eyes widened, looking up to see Sirius stood, a worried look across his face.

" _She?"_ Remus whispered.

Clarity fell over Sirius, and his hand was on his cheek, and his lips were crushing into his before Remus could think. The kiss was bruising, but it was everything Remus needed. His hand snaked into Sirius' hair, gripping and grasping at the man he has spiralled over—felt jealousy over.

"Marlene," Sirius muttered as he pulled back from their kiss. "She was... _my Lily._ Except, instead of making me feel like I had a light no one could take, she was the light that showed me that maybe girls were just into me, and I wasn't into them."

Remus dropped his hand from Sirius' hair, resting it on his shoulder. "She was…"

Sirius smirked lightly, tracing his thumb over his cheek. "The first girl I _ever_ kissed, and the last. Girl, I mean. I did kiss a boy, before you." He winked, and Remus felt a flutter of normality where the jealousy had once sat. "He wasn't as good as you."

"Take me to bed."

Tilting his head, Sirius blinked twice. "Were you _really_ that jealous?"

Remus gripped Sirius by the t-shirt, balling it in his fist as he stared into the silver eyes he wanted to cut through him. " _Yes_ ," he growled.

* * *

Marlene was not what Remus had expected at all, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or not about that fact.

She was brilliant and strong, re-telling stories from being at school with Sirius—shedding light on a man that Remus hadn't _really_ been acquainted with. Then there was the side of her Remus could tell she kept guarded, the part of herself she skated around and that made Sirius' head dip, and James go silent. It was more than a warning sign, but Remus chose not to pick at it, knowing full well that everyone had their skeletons, and he really didn't want to push.

The group had come to their house—forcing Remus to activate obsessive cleaning mode, gutting everything and dusting rooms that no one would even be in. He tried to tell himself it was all for Sirius, wanting the home to show how well he was doing for himself, but in reality, Remus knew it was only for him. He didn't want her, Marlene, to think of him as someone who squandered or treated Sirius unfairly; he wanted her to believe in him, and think of him as someone she could trust with him—especially since it was apparent they were both so close.

" _She's like a sister to me." Sirius had shrugged._

_Remus had kicked a stone against the ground. "One that you kissed?"_

" _If you knew my family, you would know that kissing someone you_ think _of like a sister isn't even the worst of it."_

He had managed to sideline his jealousy—or enough of it for it not to be apparent in a room—but Remus couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that came up when Marlene was around. This girl—the one who had always been around—knew things that Remus didn't. She had met Sirius' family and heard more stories than he ever would; she had seen his soul before it was broken, and she had been the one to hold him together before he had even met Remus.

Even still, with all the reasons he gave himself to be a little disgruntled, Remus knew he was being an idiot.

> **James:** _On our way._

Remus' took a deep breath as he locked his phone, rolling his lips against each other as he took another quick glance around the living room. He had made snacks, he had poured drinks ready, and he had even found a brilliant playlist for the evening. But he still felt like something was off.

Picking at his sweatshirt, he wondered if he should change into a shirt or something fancier. Was the evening a casual one or a formal occasion, and would he need to be Remus: _Sirius's boyfriend_ , or Remus: _waiter_.

Sirius at that point bolted down the stairs, his feet hammering against each step as Remus flinched at each sound. It felt like he was running over him, stamping him down into the ground where he wasn't sure if he could rise from. He expected him to run past, to not even notice Remus paralysed in the living room, but Sirius' didn't, he stopped, he touched, bringing his hand up to Remus' face.

"If this is too much—"

"Not at all," Remus quickly lied, trying to force a smile—but even he knew the cracks within his appearance.

Sirius had read him immediately, raising his brow—giving him a chance to be truthful. "I can cancel."

"And risk you not seeing your...friend."

As soon as he had hesitated; as soon as the pause hit the air, Remus knew he had fucked up. His breathing suddenly increased, and the pressure on his shoulders began to increase until he _wished_ that Sirius would hammer him into the ground.

"You have nothing to worry about," Sirius said softly, almost cautiously, as though he expected Remus to shrivel away if he said it any louder. "I promise."

Remus had been set to answer, to lie and put Sirius' mind at ease, when the front door opened and a barrel of laughter and chatter flooded his home. He felt the awkwardness prickle up his arms, trickling over him until he wanted desperately to flee from the room and never see anyone ever again.

But when Marlene's eyes rested on Remus, _his_ opinion of her changed completely, as though someone had turned on a light switch. Her arms engulfed him immediately—as if the two of them were the ones having a reunion—and Remus found himself only able to stand, completely rigid, as the blonde held onto him even tighter.

"Thank you," Marlene whispered to Remus, and even Sirius frowned at the odd greeting.

Remus looked over her shoulder at Sirius, hoping for some explanation or reasoning, but found none. "Um, sure?"

She ran her hands down his upper arms, grinning stupidly, and somehow the greeting had dispelled all the awkwardness he had felt. Remus looked at her, really looked at her, and noticed a damaged soul hidden behind her eyes; he saw the fractured sense-of-self that had been there for Sirius once upon a time.

Marlene took a deep breath, and Remus found himself completely taken back by the gratitude in her expression. "Thank you for being there for my best friend," Marlene added, looking over her shoulder to meet Sirius'. "Lord only knows he needed someone to save him too."

Everything that had been wrestling inside of Remus, seized. His hand slowly reaching to take Marlene's, something he would never do and wasn't sure he would do again. "I love him a lot."

"I know," she smiled, "I'm so _freaking_ happy that you do."

* * *

It had felt like a lifetime since Sirius had been at school with his friends. Him sitting beside Marlene in science, the two of them trying to see how much magnesium it would take to blind the classroom before getting detention. It had all been so simple then, he would devise plans with James to disrupt classes; he'd laugh through the struggles with his friends.

Then _everything_ changed.

Marlene's family had been killed in a car crash—a car crash _she should have_ been in, if not for Sirius _needing_ to see her. He held her as she crumbled, the edges of her hardening as she held it all together. Sirius watched her pull away, the light in her eyes dying until there was only darkness and grief. Marlene dyed her hair from blonde to black, her clothes following shortly after from pastels to dark shades. Sirius still held on, refusing to let her drown in a sea of her own regrets, but when she sat with him on the park, swinging beside him, determined to reach the sky, Sirius knew he couldn't hold on forever.

That was when she first left—she left several times over the last couple of years—but the first was what stung the most. Marlene announced bravely to James and himself how she was going to see the world, and not abuse each day any more.

At first, Sirius had received postcards, snapshots from various places he had only ever seen on the internet—and she was there, living her life.

Marlene would never know, but she was the reason he began to stand up to his parents. She put the fight in him that they could never take; Marlene handed him the strength to continued to disobey when the strength had begun to fade.

Seeing her, even in these circumstances, was a blessing—one he wasn't going to abuse.

Upon arrival at work, Marlene continued her usual level of sarcasm and taunting him. She began with his shorter hair and moved on to the many tattoos he had acquired since school. He had expected that—he had braced for her to pull him apart in the only way Marlene ever could. If Sirius was truthful, he quite liked the normality of it all. The moment, however—like all nice moments at work—was cut short by the arrival of a stressed, and disgruntled Snape. His hair was even greasier than normal, and when his beetle black eyes met Marlene's, Sirius was sure a spark of lightning lit the room.

"Hello, Severus."

"McKinnon," Snape snarled. "I didn't realise we were so desperate for new recruits."

Remus shuffled away from Marlene, walking backwards until Sirius could wrap his fingers around his, and could give a reassuring smile. If anyone could handle Severus Snape, it was Marlene McKinnon.

"I see you took my haircare advice," Marlene responded without missing a beat.

The sparring didn't go any further, much to Sirius' dismay. The sale for _Twilfitt's and Tattings_ erupted with a bang, and none of them had a single second to prepare for the craziness that ensued. Dorcas—the menswear supervisor—had burst into the room, locking eyes with Marlene before remembering her reason for entering.

"You're needed on the floor, Severus."

Snape's eyes hadn't moved from Marlene's, even if Marlene's had. "Coming, Meadowes."

The door closed behind them softer than Sirius had ever known it too when Snape had been in the stockroom, and he gave a suspicious look to Marlene who quickly batted it away. He didn't have a chance to ask, to question, least of all when the phone began to ring rapidly as chaos began to reign.

Snape had panicked one hour into the sale, locking himself up in the cleaners cupboard and when Dorcas was forced to ring Al Dumbles, she found he was mysteriously away from the store too, ' _examine some new space_ '. Sirius, like Dorcas, knew the rest of the staff were completely out of their depth, and while he had always hated rules and management, he knew to survive he would need to step up—even if he couldn't think of anything worse.

"Dorcas, you take Marlene and she can help you stick out the rest of your stock," Sirius said, purposefully giving Marlene a smirk that she seemed to resent. "Remus, love?" Remus turned to face him, his curls stuck in all directions. "You think you'd be able to run the rails out for womenswear to the staff there, they can begin unloading them?"

When he watched the two of them leave, Dorcas folded her arms as she watched him. He had very little to do with menswear, except for when he was forced to buy trousers or new work shoes, but he had known a little about Dorcas. Mainly rumours and stories, but enough for him to know she was about to either rip him a new one or compliment him. They were her only two options, or so he had heard.

"I like your friend."

Sirius frowned. "Remus? He's taken."

Dorcas glared, her expression unmoving as he noticed her dark curls crackle. "No. The girl."

Tilting his head suspiciously, Sirius picked up his clipboard. "I see. Well, what do I have to do with it?" Although he knew exactly what he would have to do with it.

"Nothing. I was merely informing you."

Dorcas stomped out, her curls bouncing furiously as she did, and her sharp brown eyes piercing into him as she shot him a look over her shoulder as she left. Sirius only grinned, not only was he going to exceed expectations, in his humble opinion—and piss off Snape—he was sure he may have found something to keep Marlene grounded for a little longer than her original two weeks.

"If I see one more child knock off one of the rails, I am going to disembowel them. I care not at this point," Remus snarled as he burst into the stockroom, a mere moment later. He charged up to the counter and placed himself face-first over it. "It is mania out there."

Sirius chuckled, running a hand over Remus' back trying to soothe him. Even though the thick work polo, Sirius could feel his heartbeat, all erratic and powerful—reminding Sirius _how_ alive, Remus was.

"If it makes you feel _any_ better, your boyfriend is being an awesome member of management."

Remus groaned but remained _entirely_ silent.

"Nothing to say?" Sirius pushed, and Remus took a deep breath.

"I am worried about the _after_ , when you tell Dumbles about how you heroically saved Snape from a breakdown—of his own doing—and what price you will ask for your bravery," Remus mumbled against the counter.

Sirius found himself unable to hold back a snigger, moving his hand up to Remus' shoulder as he gave it a quick squeeze. "And that, Moony, is why I love you. You know me, better than anyone I think."

He snorted, but Sirius paid no attention as Marlene entered the room, a shit-eating grin across her face that Sirius could read all too well. In true _Sirius-fashion_ , he would usually bring attention to it, but chose at this moment to remain silent—not wanting her to close off herself like she would usually.

"S'up with him?" Marlene asked, moving to gain a free rail before stopping close to them. "He looks…"

"He's worried he's going to disembowel a child," Sirius said with surprising happiness.

Marlene shrugged, brushing back her hair from her shoulder. "I actually _just_ told a mother that if she didn't _control_ her kid, I would chain them to the ceiling fan," Marlene declared, and Sirius felt Remus lift his head slowly off the counter to frown. " _What_? It is much better than what I told that woman in the Post Office."

Sirius sniggered, and Remus felt oddly like an outsider. "I remember that, didn't you tell her that if her kid cried once more that you'd silence it?"

Remus looked at him horrified, turning his attention from Sirius to Marlene and back again.

"Oh, _calm your tits_ , Remus. I didn't tell her I'd slit its throat or anything, just that I'd silence it by covering its mouth. Like a good human—I was just _looking_ out for the general public."

"You should run for Mayor, _McKinnon_ ," Sirius added.

Marlene nodded, a grin appearing on her lips. "Y'know, Black, that wouldn't be a terrible idea."

She was back, and it was all Sirius thought. Marlene was fiery, bubbly—alive. She wasn't gloomy, and her skin seemed to have brightened by several shades; even the bags under her eyes had vanished, and something inside of him—something he hadn't known was there—seemed to resolve, disappearing entirely as he relaxed.

"I'm going out for a drink after work with some of the menswear team," Marlene announced as a tinge of pink stroked over her cheeks. "You guys fancy it?"

Sirius gripped Remus' shoulder a little tighter, speaking quickly before Remus could. "No _thanks_ , Marl. Remus and I have an evening planned."

He felt Remus look at him funny, his expression all confused and nervous. Sirius sent him a smile, a reassuring and calm one—one that Sirius wasn't all that familiar with giving—but it worked, watching an invisible dust fall over Remus as clarity twinkled in his eyes.

"You have _fun_ , Marlene," Remus added, a devious smile on his face that made Sirius' stomach knot in admiration.

Marlene smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear as her eyes flashed with something Sirius couldn't read. "I _think_ I will, thanks, Remus."

* * *

**oOo**


	8. Winter

**Winter**

* * *

Remus had really come to like James and Pete, trusting them almost as much as Sirius. He shared his story about lupus, and he even felt relaxed enough to curl into Sirius when they were sat together. They quickly became four best friends who all enjoyed drinks at their local, The Knight Pub, and all-night gaming sessions where the four of them played a multiplayer game until it was finished. Remus didn't feel like he was the odd one out when he was with them, he felt like he fit in—for the first time in his life.

But someone who took him by surprise, was Lily. The woman was something else, impossibly kind and strong, whilst also making time for everyone in her life. It didn't take him a second to warm up to her, instantly feeling comfortable around her; he hadn't needed to roll his fists into his jumper sleeves whenever she spoke to him, or find that sweat littered his palm. With the ease of being with family, Remus found himself smile naturally whenever she spoke to him.

Sirius had teased him about having a crush, and while Remus knew he was joking, he suspected there was some layer of truth to it.

Lily was sat in a red jumper, tiny gold sequins stitched into it as she moved the spoon around her milky tea. She had been the one to suggest a coffee shop, and Remus being too nice—and unable to say no to her—gladly accepted, letting Sirius 'work' with James on the app.

"So, a little _puppy_ told me you _always_ wanted to be a teacher?"

Remus awkwardly laughed, feeling Lily eyes burn into him as she brought her tea-cup to her lips, the coffee shop's milk frother going off in the background as she wiggled her brows.

"Maybe— _yes_ ," Remus replied in a cagey manner.

Lily's smile seemed to double as she placed the cup back into the saucer. Her smile seemed to radiate happiness—and joy—by not even doing anything, and every part of her seemed to glow with hidden knowledge and secrets. She knew _everything,_ without anyone really saying anything.

Remus let out a heavy sigh. "I used too."

She pursed her lips as she rested her elbow on the table. "You're worthy of your dream, Remus," she said softly, a scolding to her voice. "A disease doesn't change what you love, and what you love doesn't change your disease. You'll still be ill regardless if you live your dream or if you don't."

He dropped his eyes, finding himself unable to meet her stare, mainly due to the fact she _did_ have a point and there was so much truth to her words. It was also a conversation he had with himself daily, especially since he'd moved in with Sirius, who spoke of dreams and the future with ease.

Lily placed her palm against the table. "Where have you _always_ wanted to go and study?"

"Hogwarts, In Scotland?" Remus exhaled with a smile.

It rushed out of him as though it had been loaded for a while. His heart sped up, beating furiously in his chest as though even speaking of the place had broken some rule. Hogwarts was like Fight Club, you didn't speak about it and you didn't mention it. It was a university for the elite. Those who attended found themselves with only the best of job offers and most promising of futures.

"Me too. Since I was little," Lily replied, a wistful glow in her eyes. "We should apply."

"No. No—no, no—no," Remus mumbled, shaking his head defiantly.

He knew he wouldn't be able to handle that level of rejection, not when it had been something he had thought of endlessly. It had kept him up late at nights on the ward, when he had wanted to give up and shove his homework to the side. It had stopped Remus from shouting at his father that he didn't _want_ a tutor and he didn't _want_ to study at home anymore and he just wanted to be well. Hogwarts was not just a dream, but it had been an escape that Remus had gone to when he wished he was someone else. When he had wished he was anyone else other than himself.

If Hogwarts didn't want him, Remus wasn't sure where else he'd hide or what would keep him motivated to wake up in the morning. Except for Sirius.

Lily shifted her lips side-to-side. "My parents, they worked as much as they could every day I was growing up. We still didn't have a lot."

She took a deep breath, and Remus felt an incredible amount of confusion as to why she was opening up to him. Lily barely knew him, and yet she trusted him—she wanted to be honest with him. Him, simple Remus.

"My school told them I was performing higher than expected for my age, and that a secondary school had been looking at me to go. They'd have to pay— _my parents_ —but as soon as they heard that their little girl had been picked by this fancy school, they had to do all they could to send me there."

Remus flexed his fingers under the table, his pulse becoming erratic as he remained fixed on her. He couldn't look away, even if he wanted too. The intensity of the conversation prickling at his nerves, and the urge to reach out and comfort her rose with every second, but fear of rejection kept him still.

"My parents broke themselves even further sending me to a school they couldn't afford. And I am terrified if I apply for _Hogwarts_ —which I should have done a few years ago when I finished college—and they reject me, it means none of it was worth it," she confessed, and Remus noticed tears building in her eyes.

He rolled his lips together, his hand gripping his leg as he began to bounce it slowly, not wanting to bring attention to himself. "We should apply, _shouldn't_ we?"

Lily shrugged before laughing, her hands grasping her face as he saw through her fingers she was going red.

"We'll be the same people either way, like you said?"

"Except, I'm engaged, and I have a good job. They're training me to be an _accountant!_ That's like…a good job."

Remus smiled as he mirrored her earlier shrug. "I'll do it if you do it."

Her lips spread into a wicked smile. "You're a monster, Remus Lupin," she laughed.

He found her laugh infectious, quickly joining in himself. "Well, my name does mean, _wolf-wolf_."

Their joint laughter picked up, and unusually, Remus didn't care if others looked. A small weight, one he had never known he was carrying, seemed to slip from his shoulders at the fact he had confessed. He had told someone—someone who understood—what his dream had been.

Sirius was a good listener, and he said the right things, but he didn't seem to like the idea of it because he had quickly buried the conversation. Remus didn't blame him; change frightened Sirius. Hell, it frightened Remus too, and in truth, there hadn't been a lot left for Sirius to say.

But Lily had said the things the man Remus loved _couldn't_ say; she could be someone who guided him, someone who reminded him of his own dreams without needing to protect his feelings. If Lily thought he was an idiot, she would tell him, something Sirius couldn't.

"You're so much more than your name or your diagnosis, Remus," she said gently." Don't let anyone ever tell you different."

* * *

Their first Christmas living together quickly approached, and Remus knew he couldn't spare anything.

Sirius had reluctantly shared once how horrid Christmas had been for him as a child. Remus devastatingly listened as Sirius shrugged, and sighed, as he shared tidbits of verbal abuse and his parents holding his presents from him, forcing him to watch his younger brother open all of his.

Remus hoped that he would be able to rid the man of all of those memories with _this_ Christmas—the one they would have together, in _their home_. In between working and avoiding Snape—who had recently decided to make _wolf_ noises whenever Remus was around—Remus spent his time collecting decorations secretly and purchasing matching wrapping paper for the presents he had managed to purchase.

He had even coyly taken him shopping, dragging him down the aisles of B&Q, each of them gazing at various lights as Sirius grumbled about how ridiculous the whole thing was—Remus couldn't help but cheekily grin the entire time. When Sirius stopped at the tree decorations and began to giggle, Remus felt his cheeks warm as Sirius turned to show a dog and a werewolf ornament in hand.

"It's _us_!"

"Put them down," Remus said firmly, his brows raised for added effect.

Sirius tilted his head. "But, _Moony_...it is us."

Dipping his head, he walked over as calmly as he could, taking them from Sirius' hands.

"Oh, my, god. It's _Evan's_ and _fuckin'_ Prongs," Sirius exclaimed, and before Remus could speak, there happened to be a stag and a doe in his hand. "What can Pete be... _oh, fuck yes!"_

Remus darted his eyes around, watching the judgmental parents shaking their heads at Sirius' exclamation. His ears began to heat up, and his stomach began to knot as he felt the soft fur wrapped around the wooden wolf's neck. His eyes looked over it, his index finger sweeping over the tail of the ornament as he sighed to himself.

"Do you think werewolves choose to be monsters?" Remus asked, looking up to meet Sirius clutching a rat ornament. "You know, ' _cause_ usually they get bit don't they? They don't choose to be... _ill._ Do you think they'd change it if they could, like, they don't want to be damaged?"

Sirius' smile began to fade, his shoulders slumping. "I don't think they think they're monsters. I mean, I bet for some they wish things were different, but, I think running on four legs instead of two is much better, in my _humble_ opinion."

Remus' lips twitched, wanting to be a smile.

"Plus," Sirius continued, stepping closer to Remus, "I think I'd still find the beauty in a monster, they aren't far from a _rough-around-the-edges_ dog who has enough issues to keep a psychologist paid for life."

"You aren't full of issues, Sirius," Remus whispered, rolling his lips as he purposefully held Sirius' gaze.

Nodding, Sirius smiled. "And you aren't damaged, Remus."

They left without purchasing anything, but Remus knew he would be back. The two of them clambered into the car, rubbing their hands furiously together in the bitter cold that had swept over London. They drove nodding to the music, Remus' mind populated with ideas of a forest wonderland in their house and the background sound of Sirius' singing ' _Coming Down The Chimney Tonight'_ only added to the festive feeling growing in Remus' chest.

It had been difficult to get a day off _without_ Sirius, but Remus managed, and best of all, Sirius wasn't suspicious. Everyone assumed, except Lily it seemed, that Remus was sensible, he was shy and quiet, but he was anything but.

 

> **Lily:** _**Where am I meeting you?** _
> 
> **Remus:** _**B &Q, thank you for helping. ** _
> 
> **Lily:** _**I'm just happy I'm involved in a surprise on Sirius, he's usually the one surprising me by appearing in my house.** _

The trip was more of a success than Remus had planned, both of their cars full of decorations and presents for their other halves. Lily, thankfully, helped Remus carry everything into the house, and while he had been grateful for her offer of helping him decorate, Remus was more thankful towards James for ringing her and asking her to come home. Remus had never expected a protein pancake-mix disaster to be a saviour.

His hope when he had finished, or his _dream,_ was for Sirius to come home to a Christmas infested home from top to bottom. Remus had been cut in places he didn't think he could even get them; his eyes burned from staring at various flashing lights, and he was sure he had green bits from the tree stuck to places that weren't even exposed.

Remus had hung lights around the ceiling of the entrance hall, the front room, and spread them into the kitchen. He had decorated the tree with tinsel, and the wooden ornaments of them as various animals—with the obvious special guests of stag and a doe, a wolf, a dog, and a rat—and wrapped the few gifts he had picked up, and cautiously placed them underneath.

Remus had hoped for a smile that dimmed all the lights, but he hadn't expected Sirius to thank him, from top to bottom—least of all by sinking to his knees beside the newly lit Christmas tree.

He wasn't sure he had ever seen _anything_ more attractive than Sirius on his knees, tinsel in his hair, and his eyes shimmering with the lights from the tree.

* * *

Christmas time was supposed to be joyous, and while Sirius had never bought into it, his first Christmas officially living with Remus was proving to be better than any he had ever experience. A very close second were the ones he spent with the Potters.

Where happiness and joy circled, there was always a hint of darkness, a horde of sadness that poisoned whatever air happened to touch it.

That was Snape.

Snape's droning voice had been infecting and chewing at Remus' ear, and while he pitied his boyfriend, Sirius didn't pity him enough to save him. Sirius listened from behind a large rail as Snape moaned about ' _the sale tags not being on the left sleeve_ ' or the fact it had taken them ' _so long to do such a menial task_ '.

Sirius found it difficult to remain silent, his fist closing tightly against his palm as Snape's voice began to pierce into him.

Remus narrowed his eyes, straightening his spine—and Sirius wasn't sure he had ever looked so attractive. "Will you be assisting us then, since it's taking far longer for the minions to do your bidding."

Sirius had obviously been proved wrong. He was actually felt rather proud of quick-thinking Moony and made a note to tell him so later.

Snape, as usual, ignored the comment. "As I was saying, Remus, the sale commences on Boxing Day, which means—"

"We can stuff you in a box?" Sirius quipped, stepping out from behind the rail dramatically like a villain in a Christmas play.

Remus folded his arms, biting his lip to stifle the laughter—Sirius recognised it, he knew every tick of Remus'—and it only egged him on more. He had found himself studying him when he read or listened to music, little parts of his personality trickling out all unafraid, and filled Sirius with love. He was comfortable with him, relaxed around him enough not to be on guard, it was blissful, brilliant, and somehow, all Sirius had ever wanted without knowing it.

"Or are we talking about box's purely to pull my leg because that isn't fair, Snivellus. You know torturing those beneath you is called _workplace bullying_."

Glaring forcibly, Snape lifting his chin, elongating his already long nose. "The only reason you know what workplace bullying is, Black, is because you're often accused of it."

Sirius smugly placed his hand on his hip. "Are you flirting with me, Severus? Because you are barking up the wrong tree." Wiggling his hand similarly to Beyonce, Sirius began to wiggle his hips to the amusement of Remus. "Unless you have forgotten, I'm taken."

Snape rolled his eyes, bringing his clipboard closer to his chest—the same clipboard he was never without, and the very clipboard Sirius suspected was Snape's primary lover.

As Snape went to make his exit, he paused at the door, narrowing his eyes to near slits. "Although I am sure many would like too, no one is likely to forget the disgusting show the pair of you put on."

Shrugging, Sirius dropped his hand from his hip with a sigh. "Jealousy is such an ugly trait on someone with curtain hair, Snivellus," Sirius made sure to add, just before the door closed.

Sirius took a second, basking in the Christmas spirit of torturing Snape before he chose to allow his eyes to wander over to meet Remus' raised brow expression.

"You shouldn't be so harsh. It _is_ Christmas."

Remus turned his bag to him, making his way over to their counter with his shoulders high and a large amount of tension in his back. Sirius could tell, even with the thick, bobbled jumper covering Remus. It was in the way he walked, the way Remus held himself.

"Um, and? The guy is a huge fu—"

" _Manager_?" Remus added with a smirk, and Sirius groaned before snapping his mouth shut. "There we go, a silent Sirius, is a happy Snape."

Sirius trudged over to the counter, childishly snatching the size cubes for the rail. "Why do you want him happy and me miserable? Do you not love me anymore, is that it?"

Remus snorted, shaking his head. "You are a prat."

"A loveable prat?"

Sirius hadn't liked Remus' silence.

* * *

Remus' secretive annual leave application was accepted mere hours after they finished their shift on the 23rd. It wasn't usual for the _main_ stockroom staff to be off over the Christmas period, but when Remus had explained that Sirius hadn't taken any annual leave so far that year, Dumbledore had relented.

Telling Sirius Christmas Eve morning as he groaned and moaned about having to get up, had been the highlight of Remus' entire life—even more so when Remus said they wouldn't be back until Christmas. It became tiresome a second later when Sirius began jumping up and down on the bed like a child, excitedly giggling as he berated Remus with questions.

" _Is this why you wanted Snape in a good mood?"_

"Yes."

" _So you do love me?"_

"Of course."

" _You love me."_

"Yes."

The holiday season passed in a blur of alcohol, laughter, and Cards Against Humanity; everyone—excluding Sirius—had been remarkably taken back by Remus' sick sense of humour. He only grinned as the others took shots, and James began to shout things he really should have been whispering, even if Pete's expression was an absolute picture.

January came with rain and downtrodden customers, which meant torture for Sirius as Snape took his bad mood out on those who infuriated him—and of course, Sirius was at the top of the list. If Remus had gotten home and not heard a rant about Snape, he counted it as a good day, and when the end of the week approached, Remus decided to effectively ban the name at home for his own sanity.

Which Sirius had found a way to get around.

"I've set you up a character to play as on Skyrim," Sirius called out as Remus carried in two mugs of hot chocolate. " _Y'know_ , the one you watched me play?"

Remus lowered the mugs down to the table before seating himself next to him. "The one with the ' _Some may call this junk, me, I call them treasures_ ' or that silly arrows to the knee—which makes absolutely no sense."

"It isn't supposed to make sense, it's supposed to be fun. You do know what fun is, don't you?"

He glared teasingly as he snatched the controller from Sirius, shimmied his shoulders as he moved the analog stick around, attempting to explore.

Remus had played games before—and on occasion during his childhood, far too often—but he had only ever owned a much older PlayStation or his desktop PC. It had been a while since he had touched a controller, never mind sat down to actually play something, and Remus partially thanked January for being so boring for the reason he was.

"These graphics are…"

"Mind-blowing, brilliant? Wait until you see—"

"Sirius, do not ruin this like you did _Heavy Rain_ ," Remus warned, pushing forward on the left controller as his character moved.

Silence followed, and for a second Remus found it too silent—especially for Sirius—but it quickly slipped his mind as he walked through the village, noticing the attention to detail of the long grass or the faces of those who lived there. He forced his character to wander outside, moving from the safe gates of where Sirius had allowed him to start from, he drew his weapon, confidently grinning at how quickly he had found the button, when a loud squeal shocked the life from him.

"Padfoot?" Remus asked full of panic, spinning the screen as he tried to find the thing that had made the noise. "Oi, Sirius?"

"Look _up_ , Moony."

He slid the stick up, the sky suddenly coming into view, and a nervous bubble began in Remus' stomach.

"A dragon?"

"A _dragon_ ," Sirius said with a laugh.

Remus swallowed, forcing the lump down as he tried to calm his nerves. _It was a game, he used to play them all the time, and this was no different. He would be fine. It was a game_. Something in him—the nerd that had never died—suddenly came out, and his fingers took over, the primal need to win, to maul, resurfacing in Remus as though he had never stopped playing. He flicked through his weapons, and he could feel Sirius tense beside him as the dragon landed.

"Wait!" Remus snapped, suddenly entering the menu again as his eyes wandered over the name of his character, and he turned his head to meet a red-faced, trying not to laugh, Sirius. "You named me fuckin' Snape?"

Sirius roared with laughter, tears suddenly shooting down his face as he gasped for the air he had been holding back. "You said the _banned_ name!"

"You, Sirius Black, are a fucking- _fucker_."

Turning his attention back to the game, unpausing from the menu, Remus pressed on forward, swishing his sword with his character's right hand as he used the left to heal himself.

"Wait...you aren't going to shout, _punish me_?"

He simply smirked, taking a huge swipe at the dragon as it tried to burn Remus' character down to the bone. "I think ignoring you for your game is punishment."

Remus didn't need to see if it landed, the large groan that came from Sirius was enough satisfaction for Remus. The fact he killed the dragon—the one Sirius had hoped would defeat him—made him grin even more.

* * *

**oOo**


	9. Spring

**Spring**

* * *

Remus had planned _everything._

 _One_ : he would get pizza from the place that did the fake-cheese, so Sirius could eat it.  
_Two_ : he'd nip into Sainsbury's, pick up some free-from cake, and non-alcohol beer to go with Sirius' whisky.  
_Three_ : he'd purchase a film, one he _explicitly_ didn't want to see, but Sirius did.  
And, _four_ : Remus would tell Sirius he got accepted to, his dream school, Hogwarts University in Scotland.

It was a plan with holes in, Remus had been aware of that, but the burning in his chest where his lie had been sat was doing Remus' conscious no favours. He had no sooner got through the door when his worst fear was realised—Sirius stood holding the envelope.

"Fuck," Remus muttered, pulling his keys from the door as he entered the home officially. Using his foot to kick the door shut, Remus placed the bag in his hand down before sliding the pizza box onto the table. " _Fucking-fuck,"_ he muttered again— _with added pizzazz_ —when he saw Sirius' expression.

"I'm going to _assume_ you aren't insulting my intelligence and attempting to butter me up with pizza and whisky before showing me this?" Sirius hissed, striking immediately.

Remus began to gnaw on his lip, suppressing a cough that had been twisting in the back of his throat which was quickly growing into a tickle, one he repeatedly tried to ignore it. "I also bought a DVD—"

Sirius slammed the envelope down, and while it was too light to give the desired slamming sound, it still cut through Remus. "University!?"

"I like to learn—" Remus tried to say, but was cut off by Sirius, who was so _much_ louder.

"In _fuckin'_ Scotland? I mean! Could you move any fucking closer?" Sirius hissed, spit flying out of his mouth from the uncapped rage. "Am I that much of a shit boyfriend you wanna just fuck off in the night like some… like a—"

"Sirius," Remus tried again as he attempted to clear his throat, coughing as silently as he could into his hand.

"Skulk!" Sirius exclaimed, looking half-pleased with himself under the layer of absolute rage. "Yes! _A skulk!"_

Remus frowned as he thought, not sure Sirius was as right as he suspected. "Skulk is a verb, not an animal," Remus murmured, watching Sirius' cheeks darken in embarrassment as his eyes narrowed. "Or _Skulks_ are animals just like you said—"

"Do _not_ patronise me, Remus Lupin, just because you're more intelligent than me, with your university _acceptance letter_ and your soon to be PHD. And no, I do not mean _pretty huge dick_ , although, unfortunately, you do have one," Sirius hissed, his arms being thrown over his chest in a huff.

Remus swallowed back his first thought, for once noticing the thickening tension and thunderous awkwardness this conversation was bringing. He wondered how long the storm had been brewing, how many hours it had been since Sirius had found out. Softly, Remus rubbed his chest, trying to give himself the much-needed air flow to continue this conversation with Sirius.

"I know you are upset," Remus began, but when he saw Sirius' nostrils flare, he raised his hands in defence. "And, you have every right to be. But I didn't think I'd even get in, and when the post came I didn't dare open it before you knew. But, since I've _apparently got_ in, I can tell you it's nice, and it's got hills and—"

"There are _fucking_ hills right there," Sirius snapped, his finger pointing at the window that was thankfully closed. " _Right fucking there!_ What? Those hills _not good enough_ for you? You have to move to a place where underpants don't go under _men's skirts_?"

Remus closed his eyes as he rolled the brochure up in his hands. "I can't talk to you when you're being this childish or selfish."

Sirius jutted his head out, a look of surprise passed over his face. "I'm— _I'm_ being _fuckin'_ selfish? Not you, the man who's applied to universities up in fucking, _bastard, twatting,_ Scotland? You know, without even discussing it with me, your partner? Your Sirius!?"

"You know I've always wanted to go to university," Remus said softly, opening his eyes, putting his stress into rolling the paper rather than allowing it to trickle into his tone. "You know I want to teach—"

"And I want to be naked for the rest of my life. Doesn't mean I'm going to go and burn all my fucking clothes now, does it?" Sirius exclaimed, sitting down in a huff on the sofa, his head falling into his hands. "But I'm being _selfish_ , aren't I? For wanting you to stay, for wanting my _boyfriend_ to be here when I get home."

Remus opened his mouth, but decided against speaking and instead moved his weight to his other foot. There was nothing he could say right now that would matter.

Sirius looked up, fingers clawing through his dark hair. "Would you have ever told me? Or is that another bad quality I've got—not being approachable?"

"You're taking this out of context—"

"No," Sirius interrupted, shaking his head as his tone softened as he moved away from Remus, the hurt more apparent, "I'm really fucking not, Remus."

Remus could only stand there, sunken feelings and tears brewing in his eyes, as he watched Sirius walk to their bedroom, and slam the door behind. The sound from the door set off the coughing fit that shook the entire two-bedroom house. He continued to rub his chest, using the other hand to contain the coughs. ne painful attempt caught him off guard, forcing Remus to slide down the nearest wall, his chest vibrating with each try, his voice gone as he tried to call for Sirius.

 _I love you. I love you so much,_ Remus' eyes burned as they stared at the closed door, his eyes drooping as he wheezed into his hand.

* * *

While his vision blurred, Remus could still see Sirius perfectly, which meant he could also see the panic in his eyes. The ambulance thrashed them from side to side, a mask coming down over Remus' lips, but his only focus was clutching Sirius' fingers—those warm, long fingers that made his heart soar.

Remus briefly heard someone speak, but everything around Sirius was in slow-motion or sounded as though it was occurring far away.

"—He's had a cough—"

He tried to swallow, feeling a lump in his throat. Remus opened his mouth, trying to explain or show his discomfort—but strangely, no one was looking at him to notice. Sirius' eyes were on something above him; the paramedic focused on retrieving things.

"—Yeah he had it for a while, yeah, persistent," Remus heard Sirius explain, worry laced on his words, adding a shift to his usual tone—the one normally plastered in confidence.

Giving his fingers a tight squeeze, Remus tried to reassure him—even if he knew it wouldn't work. Lying here, feeling helpless and alone—even though he wasn't—wasn't a great picture to present to the man you were in love with when trying to reassure them.

"Is he…" Sirius' eyes dropped to him, and Remus felt a tear slip out from his eyes, and the wall Sirius had hoped to erect crashed, the evidence of such in his eyes. "Will he be okay?"

Remus didn't hear the response as the light faded, and sleep took him.

Remus next woke to the sound of beeping, and a weight on his legs. He knew the sound enough to know where he was, and he didn't need to open his eyes to know he was in a bed with an oxygen mask on. He felt somewhat better, as though sleep had been all he needed—when in truth, he knew it was the medicine, the magic of drugs.

"You scared me."

Opening his eyes, Remus was met with the sight of a sleep-deprived Sirius, sipping coffee and looking at him with a worried look. The weight he had felt was Sirius pulling on the bed sheets as he sat on the bed, making sure he got a good view.

"I mean, really fucking scared me," Sirius reaffirmed, as though Remus wouldn't completely understand his words before.

Remus raised his hand slowly, the bones in his arm feeling tender and tight as though he had run a marathon. In a slow, and shaky move, he pulled the mask from his face, gasping at the cooling sensation of real air against the skin around his mouth.

"I love you, you know that right?" Sirius continued, biting down on his lip. "You need to know that because if for one day I forget to tell—"

Remus softly nodded, swallowing painfully as his throat felt like razors. "I know," he cracked, his voice husky from being asleep and lack of drinking. "I—I'm _sorry_."

He wished he had more words in him—well, he did, but no capability to say them. Remus stared straight into his eyes, the ones with flecks of dark grey twisted in the light, and said everything his lips couldn't, with his eyes.

_I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone. I hate that my illness worried you, but I promise—I am going nowhere._

"You best not be," Sirius chuckled, dipping his head as he picked at the coffee cup, his teeth visible as they chewed on some skin on his lip. "Not sure I can live without you, Moony. Not much point in the stars if they've got nothing to surround."

Sirius looked at Remus through his hair, and Remus' chest tightened impossibly. He'd never before seeing Sirius so vulnerable. Everything in Remus relaxed, the mattress underneath him suddenly becoming more comfortable and the room a little brighter.

"I don't care if you go to university, but I want us to be together," Sirius mumbled, and while it wasn't the desired tone, Remus didn't want to argue anymore.

Nodding against the pillow—wanting the fight to be over, even if he didn't need Sirius' permission—Remus softly smiled, extending his hand out, palm to the ceiling. "Thank _you_ ," Remus croaked, wiggling his fingers.

Sirius shook his head playfully, a smile to match Remus' mirrored on his face as he placed his hand in Remus', their fingers clutching the others.

"Don't die on me, Moony."

"One day...I'll have...too."

Sirius blinked back tears Remus had already noticed. "Not today. Or tomorrow. Not for a good month."

Remus let out a shaky laugh that ended in a wheeze. "Not for a good month," he repeated in the same tone as before, his body still depleted and broken.

* * *

Recovery was _always_ difficult. It was worsened by Sirius' need to control everything. Remus had once thought he had a problem when it came to control—apparently Sirius seeing Remus this way did a number on him.

He _tried_ to not be ungrateful. For one, he had someone who gave a damn about him enough to care, but even still, Remus didn't need his pillow fluffing every hour. He also didn't need to eat his body weight in soup. Even with all of that, Remus still said, _thank you_.

"Um, Moony?" Sirius called out on the third afternoon of _bed rest._

Remus frowned as he leant on the side of his bed, trying to catch a look of Sirius. "Yeah?"

"I'm off out, do you think you'll be okay?"

Not able to stop himself, Remus casually glanced around the room. He had an iPad, the television had moved into their bedroom, he had drinks, and a lunchbox—even if he could walk to the kitchen quite easily.

"Of course," Remus said, trying to hold back a laugh. "I think I could retire in here and be happy."

Sirius chuckled. "You're cute. See you later."

Their household had slowly returned to normal. There had been nothing _prickly_ in the air, nothing between them the two hadn't spoken on, and Remus found himself relaxing again. Everyone said when two people moved in together the cracks would show, and all the two of them had proved was how good they were at fixing those cracks before they dented the foundation.

Remus had been signed off for two weeks, allowing him a chance to read and appreciate the fact there were no more conversations left to have between him and Sirius.

Or so he had thought.

"Do you ever want to get married?" Sirius asked, and Remus almost choked on his piece of toast. "Wow, what a _lovely_ reaction."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Unfair, I _am_ eating." He swallowed back the last remnants of his food. "In my defence, it isn't something I've ever thought about, _and_ I didn't think you ever would want too, not after the way you talk about _your_ family."

Sirius shrugged, looking off at the wall as he looked to be thinking, but it was clear he was hurt. Remus could feel it peck at his skin, worsened by the fact Sirius wouldn't even meet his eyes.

"I wouldn't be getting married for them though, would I? It would be something I'd be choosing."

"Padfoot, are you saying that you want to get married?"

Meeting Remus' eyes, Sirius shrugged even lighter than before. The confirmation was there, shining beams into Remus, and he should have felt happy, he knew he should have. It is all anyone else would want to hear, and yet he didn't, and he didn't want to see it. He could feel an invisible weight attaching itself to his shoulders, and all Remus wanted was the ground to swallow him whole.

"Do you?" Sirius asked.

Remus sighed, knowing whatever rabbit hole he was diving down into was not going to end well.

"If I'm honest, and please, please don't jump off the bridge. No." Sirius' eyes dropped, and Remus' stomach hurt as though he had been punched. "I don't...believe in it, _per se_. I don't think it makes a huge amount of difference, plus, not to be brutal here, but we are two men—and I don't think Sirius Lupin sounds right, and I know you don't want me to be Black, so what would be the point?"

"Because we love one another?"

 _Shit_. Remus licked his lips. "We love each other now, though. And, we aren't in a fairytale, Sirius, we know a ring isn't all that powerful—even if it was one crafted in—"

"Don't _Lord of the Ring_ 's me when I'm being serious," Sirius said bluntly, and Remus closed his mouth quickly—especially when Sirius had used the word serious without a smirk. "Being with me...that _hasn't_ changed your mind? Being with someone you truly love, that doesn't sway you?"

Remus knew he had to be careful, especially as he felt his body beginning to react to the uncomfortable conversation—flight or fight mode fully kicking in as his palms began to sweat and his head beginning to prickle. "If you want to get married, we can get married—"

"I want us to get married because we want too, not because _I_ want too," Sirius muttered softly, sounding closer to a kicked puppy than a human sat across from Remus eating cornflakes. "I mean when we have children—"

"Wait, we are having _children_?" Remus asked, his eyes wide in shock. "First I've heard of this... there a surrogate around the corner who will jump out in a second."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's a sad day in this house when I'm the one being an adult, Remus."

 _Ouch_ , Remus thought as he winced.

"So, you don't want children?" Sirius asked, his fist clenched on top of the table, and Remus suddenly noticed the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He took a second, and then another, breathing in and out—focusing on that before he felt he could reply. Remus _needed_ to be calm, especially now when the house was crackling with tension. "Living with a disease that shortens my lifespan, if I'm honest, I've never thought about it—"

"And now?"

Remus frowned, not at all appreciating the pushiness. "I don't know, Sirius, I got up this morning and found a lump on my neck I need to have checked out and was in the middle of eating jam on bloody toast, I didn't realise I needed to have answers to questions that had never been asked," he said rushed, his voice trailing off from lack of breath.

Sirius stood up abruptly, using his foot to kick the chair behind as he walked past Remus. The slam of a plate meeting the kitchen counter; the hiss coming from Sirius as he stubbed his toe for the billionth time in the last month.

 _Don't leave_ , Remus thought to himself—knowing Sirius better than himself.

"I'm going out," Sirius announced, not giving Remus any time to protest, the slam of the front door signalling his exit.

Remus, refusing to react, picked up his toast and examined it—feeling the coldness of it against his warm fingers before flinging it l, hating that it stuck to the wall, the jam leaving a trail as the bread slumped down.

"For fuckin' hell's sake," he hissed under his breath, his university letter catching his eyes on the coffee table.

* * *

The worst thing about a fight with Sirius was the silence after. There was no budging him, and currently, Remus was in the coldest freeze-out he had ever experienced. There wasn't even a grunt at breakfast, and at one stage, Sirius had shut the door on Remus — and that had been at work.

Remus tried not to linger on it, knowing his notice was nearly over and soon he would be free to study and not be under Sirius all day—not that he minded.

He had been close to blowing up into an angry storm himself when Sirius came home drunk a week after their fight, but when Sirius kissed him, Remus forgot everything he was going to say. Remus had never wanted to be one of those _tumble-into-bed-after-a-fight_ men, but he was—and _fuck_ was he glad. Remus didn't care for his blood pressure as Sirius' drunken body took its time; Remus didn't care for the assortment of bite marks and scratches from Sirius or the whispers of _mine_.

What Remus _did_ mind was the blatant ignorance the next day when Sirius was hungover—and had clearly forgotten the previous night. Remus knew if he brought it up, he'd be the low one again, so instead, he did nothing. He simply continued the way he had been, moving around Sirius and making him drinks and poorly cooking food, just as he always did.

When the cold-freeze reached new low temperatures, and they moved into the second week, Remus was close to losing his mind. When he spent a Thursday night alone— after Sirius hadn't returned home from James' the night before because he had " _accidentally_ " fallen asleep — Remus began to wonder if they could ever come back from this. Had Remus' vagueness and blatant deviousness ruined their relationship? Had the trust gone? Was this the end?

Remus blamed the advert about orphans in the country for his eruption of tears, and as he hugged the cushion—wishing it was Sirius—he wanted nothing more than for the man to return home. He had considered, at one stage, texting Lily to ask if she could persuade Sirius to come home, but Remus realised that neither James or Lily owed him anything, especially when Remus was in the wrong.

Friday arrived at the same time as Remus' Amazon order of books—for _whatever_ course at _whatever_ University he chose—he sank into the sofa with a stuck out bottom lip. He hadn't felt hungry since yesterday. He felt ill. Remus had no idea if it was from his illness or stress—but he felt tired, depressed, and depleted.

Grabbing his mobile, he opened it before sliding to Sirius' name, and he didn't care if he seemed desperate or ridiculous as he called. Remus had never before hated the sound of a ringing phone before now, and as it continued, and continued, the sound of Sirius' voice on voicemail even made his heart skip. He resisted the urge to throw his phone into the wall, instead, hanging up as he screamed in annoyance.

At some stage, he had fallen asleep. Curled into the fetal position on the sofa as his phone buzzed, and the evening had settled in—blanketing the front room in darkness, except for his phone.

 

> **Lily:** _James hasn't come back, and they've been out since this morning._
> 
> _**Lily:** I know you guys are fighting, and I am so sorry I've not been more helpful, but I'm getting worried, can you ring them? _

_Shit_ , Remus hissed, seeing the time stamps were two hours ago. He was set to call her, hoping for good news when his phone buzzed.

 

> **Lily:** _They got arrested. Apparently, Sirius punched Snape. James is at the fucking station with Sirius and I don't know what to do? If I go down there, I'll kill him. If I leave him there, someone else will kill him._

Remus shook his head running his fingers through the front of his curls as he tried to think. This _was too much_. Everything that had been happening, the arguments, the drinking, the out-of-control Sirius—it wasn't them, it wasn't the best versions of who they were.

 

> **Lily:** _Remus?_

The sight of his name pulled him out of his thoughts, and he tried to think like a rational Remus would. Not that rational Remus was present.

 

> **Remus:** _I'll get them out, and put James in a taxi._

He hoped she didn't ask why he wouldn't be dropping him home, not sure if he could muster the strength to explain he needed to speak to Sirius alone. If this wasn't the proof Remus needed, he didn't know what was. At no stage did he _ever_ want to change he man he loved, but he had been, and Remus had been for weeks.

Sirius had known Remus' doubts about staying here and passing up the course in Scotland. The lack of communication had ripped apart the last hold they both had on their relationship, and everything—trust and love, their future and their present, was all up in flames. 

 

> **Lily:** _I'm so mad at them, Remus._

Remus felt his eyes beginning to burn as the tightness in his chest began to come back.

 

> **Remus:** _Me too._
> 
> _**Lily:** Don't be too hard on him, Remus. _

* * *

Remus could feel his heartbeat thumping in his neck, he knows this is it, the point they've got to that they either will never come back from or brush under the carpet and ignore—Remus didn't want to ignore this. Picking up your boyfriend who was in jail was the blow that would hit the nail on the head. It was the low he had seen coming his way, the thing that would break the two of them apart, but he didn't know how low, the low would be.

"Remus…" Sirius mumbled full of shame.

His eye was a brilliant blue, making the dark brown of his eye seem even darker in comparison. Remus let his mouth part, the tiniest space between his lips as he stared over at the dried blood in Sirius' hair, and the clearly broken nose that no one had bothered to look at.

"Come on," is all Remus said—because nothing else could be said in front of gawking people who expected a meltdown from one of them.

Sirius had always been expressive, but never like this; not since he had been with Remus. He had told Remus of his childhood, the occasional beating for dropping food, and the way he was left behind when the family went on holiday. Sirius had even told Remus about the fights he used to get himself into, just to appease the moral compass inside of Sirius that wanted to do something bad. This was worse, this made Remus believe that he was just as bad as the parents that clearly never loved Remus—and he knew that couldn't be brushed under the carpet.

The walk to the car was a short one, but it felt so long in the silence. When both their doors finally shut behind them, Remus saw no use in prolonging the conversation—thinking at least the car was a safe space.

"We can't do this anymore, Sirius," Remus began, the words falling from his lips easier than they did his fingers when he was inspired. His eyes moved out of focus, staring at the street lamp flickering in the distance. "We are destroying one another—"

"No we aren't," Sirius challenged, his voice soft and hurt. It hurt Remus even more.

He shook his head, unwilling to meet the dark eyes he knew he'd fall into. Remus couldn't drown this time, he needed to be strong, swim to shore all by himself. He needed to be strong for Sirius, who clearly couldn't see the storm heading their way, ready to shatter the ark they had built for themselves.

"You cut your hair."

Remus turned his head at that point, he needed to see the reaction of his words. He needed to see that they hit Sirius right where he needed them too. They did. "What?"

Remus sighed. "You heard me. You cut your hair, your _rockstar_ hair—"

"So? You like it short!" Sirius hissed.

He was oblivious, and it was making it worse. Remus needed him to see what he was seeing, he needed Sirius to open his fucking eyes to what was occurring. What had been happening for weeks, months.

"I don't, Sirius. You heard me talk about the fact I _dated_ a man with short hair, and one woman. And you cut your hair. We'd been together for over a year when you did, eighteen months to be exact. You cut your hair."

"My hair isn't us, Remus."

Remus raised his brows. "Isn't it? You changed something about yourself, that you loved, for me."

Sirius rolled his eyes and frowned at the pain doing so caused his bruises. "It's called compromise."

"On what type of bread we buy to toast. On where to eat, not something physical about yourself. Not something you do because you're afraid to lose me, like I'd leave you over your hair—"

"You're leaving me now though, aren't you? So it wasn't that fucking stupid of an idea, was it? Ay, Remus?" Sirius shouted, his temper wrapping around Remus like a rope, pinning him here, unable to move. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Sirius…"

Sirius' eyes flashed with lightning, the brown fading to black, the warmth usually flooding out of him turning cold. "You don't love me anymore…"

"The opposite, actually," Remus whispered, a tear falling from his cheek. "I love you so much that I can't watch you change for me. We fell in love with people we aren't anymore, Sirius. But I still love you, your heart, your soul, and I want to work on us, but you seem—"

"Then stay, Moony. We can work on it… I will work on us," Sirius replied, but Remus knew from his eyes that neither of them could. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you, I can't even wash my own clothes," he choked out, a sob passing his lips Remus knew he had been trying to hold back.

Remus let another tear fall, painting his face in the sorrow he had been feeling the entire drive to the police station. "You know, I can't lose you completely—"

"Don't give me that shit about being friends, Moony. That's for losers, I'll handle the breakup better than fucking Snape. If that is what this is?"

Remus fell silent because he truly didn't know what this was. It was just shit. The worst. His skin was clammy and his heart was racing, and the only thing he thought with confidence was—I love him.

"This is _shit_ ," Sirius said, squeezing his hand. "I _fucking_ love you. Is this because you don't even want to try long distance? We will work—"

"I love you too much to do that to you," Remus sighed, "me being up north and you being down here, when would we see one another? You don't drive… I'm not going to university to meet someone, you know that don't you? Because I'm not. I love you, and I want you, but us right now... I need to think, okay? You got arrested, and I need to take you home and go to my dad's or something—"

"We said we would do this as long as it made sense, and it felt right. That hasn't changed for me, Remus."

Remus wiped his face sneakily as he grasped the wheel. "You know, maybe this isn't the end of us, it's just… one of those horrid climax's you _dread_ in movies"

Sirius dipped his head, and Remus watched a tear fall from Sirius' nose to his lap. "Life isn't like a film though is it, Moony? If it was, we'd live happily ever after."

"We may not be a fairytale, Sirius, but we could be the rom-com, the romantic comedy of the year."

Shaking his head, Sirius let out a soft, hard-to-hear sob. "I don't think there's anything _comedic_ about losing the love of my life, Remus. Fuck… the country wants to fucking leave Europe and now I've lost the Moony from the stars."

"You haven't lost...I just _need—_ "

Sirius snorted. "No, you just need to think— _away from me_."

Remus decided against replying.

* * *

**oOo**


	10. Spring

**Spring**

* * *

Sirius _hated_ that Remus had a point.

But most of all, he hated how that point had been thrust in his face for him to see.

Sirius knew he was broken, he _always_ had, and Sirius had also known when he got the chance to find someone who made him not want to run, he'd try too hard to keep them. It had been something Sirius had actively tried not to do, knowing full well that if he did it with Remus, he would lose him.

And here Sirius was, stood in the living room of James and Lily's house as he paced the carpet. He followed the outside lines until they wove themselves in, the light from the night sky breaking through the open curtains, reflecting over the ground as Sirius created shadows on the walls. He _wanted_ a drink; he wanted to pull his thoughts from his brain and throw them in the bin.

But he knew that wouldn't be possible.

> **Remus:** _Are you okay?_

He pulled out his cigarettes, finding the packet that held them crumpled and worn from being seated in the police cell. His lighter clicked with ease, the small flame dancing up as the paper crinkled under the heat, and the cigarette lit.

> **Remus:** _You don't need to talk to me, but tell me you're okay._

Sirius cautiously moved to the window, pushing it open as the cool breeze danced over his hand and up his arm, letting the hairs upon it stand on edge. He missed Remus; Remus who caused the same sensation just by looking at him. Remus who'd tried desperately to please both him and himself, a futile task because how could Sirius ever be fulfilled by someone if he couldn't fulfil himself.

And Sirius knew that was the point.

Neither of them were _unhappy_ , but they were the happiest they could be. Dipping his head, holding the cigarette away from his lips, Sirius bit down on the inside of his mouth as he realised, without a doubt, _Remus needed_ to go, and Sirius needed to not fight it. If he did, he'd lose him for good; he would hate him, resent him, and Sirius had already lived with people who felt both those emotions towards him, plus many more.

His eyes raised, gazing out of the window as he took a deep inhale before blowing out into the night. Sirius let out a sigh as the cigarette smoke swirled up to the sky. His eyes followed it, half-hating how magical it seemed as it twisted in the wind. Like a spell, one he wished could cast down on him and bless him with everything he needed. Although Sirius didn't feel magical, he didn't even feel himself, and yet, he knew that wasn't Remus' fault.

Sirius had _always_ been impulsive; it was in his blood. He had been damaged, while already being given a set of skills instilled into his DNA that made it difficult to be the person he wanted to be. Every time he had something good in his life, Sirius would find it stolen from him—and he always hated life for doing it. It was only now, alone and stood in his best friend's living room, that he realised it wasn't _life_ , but himself in another form. He had always self-destructed and ruined everything good.

Exactly what he was doing with Remus.

Allowing his eyes to roll into the back of his head, Sirius caught a glimpse of something white and pearlescent in the sky—something he hadn't stared at for quite some time: _the moon_.

Sirius flicked the ash from his cigarette out of the window, deciding against bringing it up to his lips as he stared at the circular object, hanging there, taunting him. He wanted to think that the full moon was out to ruin him, when really he knew it was only himself. He had pushed Remus to question the two of them—he had given Remus the evidence and clarity of who he really was.

"Why don't you ever save me?" Sirius asked shakily, a lump forming in his throat as he cast the rest of the cigarette out of the window. "Why don't you ever _guide me?_ "

He knew the moon—being an object—wouldn't reply, but Sirius still felt dejected that nothing else did either.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he swallowed. "My parents were abusive pricks, and now I'm finally happy and... _what?_ You're just going to hang there, gleaming down on me and not offer any sort of help on how I'm supposed to fucking fix this?"

Sirius glared down at the end of his sock, the one he had rolled against the floorboards to the point it had stuck between his toes. A restless ache thumped in his chest, and as he slowly shook his head, he stared boldly at the moon.

"I can't lose him. He's the _best_ parts of me, and—"

"Sirius?" a small voice said.

For a second, Sirius looked up at the moon with wide-eyes, tears shining in them as his heart stopped. A shiver ran down his spine, and as his whole body went cold; the [juxtaposition] of the warm fingers brushing his arm sparked him to realise how insane he was when he realised it was Lily.

"Sirius," Lily whispered softly, "Sirius, come here…"

He tried to wipe his eyes, wipe away the fear that ran down his cheeks, but Lily was too quick. Her hand took his as she moved herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Even if he had been the one to make the move, Sirius would never have known how much he needed that hug, least of all when he let the walls down. The tears that fell onto her red hair, and the almost silent sobs that left his mouth as she drew circles on his back. She wasn't Remus, but she was as close to him Sirius could currently get. Her heart was so pure, just like Remus' and her touch was just as gentle, and when she broke from the hug, her green eyes sparkled almost similarly to Remus'.

"You're not broken, Sirius." Her body moving from his as she crossed to sit on the sofa, tapping the cushion beside her. "You've had a _rough,_ wickedly horrid upbringing, and while you're not free of your demons, you don't let them hinder you."

Dragging his feet over to her, Sirius slowly sat down beside her. "Our mum—James' mum—she would have loved you."

He watched as she smiled, her hand patted his knee—aw wordless stop—as her cheeks flooded with a pink glow she couldn't hide even in the moonlight. She kept it there, a friendly _I'm here._

"Remus only applied because I told him he should," Lily said.

Sirius watched her, waiting for some softness to show in her eyes or an apologetic expression to fall over her face, but neither came.

She patted his knee once more before removing it from his leg, placing it back on her knee. "And he _should_ have. He's a smart man, Sirius. He's also had his entire life dictated by something he can't see, and this is the first time he's been able to do something he wanted to do." He let his eyes drop to his lap. "He didn't apply because he wanted to prove himself, he wanted to apply because deep down, Sirius, he _wants to go._ He's terrified, though."

"He should have told me."

He heard her shoulders shrug, the heaviness of a sigh leaving her lips as she did. "Maybe. But did you tell him about your album? Or the amount of hours you've put into James' app? Or the—"

"I get it, Evans."

She snorted, and Sirius found himself smirking at the sound, finding it so unlike her that it made everything feel so much worse. Everything was on its head, and most of it was caused by him.

"I just wish he had come to me," Sirius continued. "I get it, I'm a handful, and I also get that really, this hasn't got fuck all to do with me, but I want a future with _him._ Everything else is...well what it is—"

"Your dream?" Lily interjected, and Sirius' shoulders fell at the truth of her words. "You don't want to lose him, right?" Sirius lifted his head and shoulders and met her eyes before nodding. "Then don't lose him. Support him, as he does with you."

Sirius softly nodded again before he felt a rush of warmth flood through him, and he turned to look out of the window at the moon.

Lily rose from beside him, the sofa cushions moving as she did. "Did you know that wolves are slaves to the moon?"

"What?"

Laughing, she moved closer to the window, pulling the curtain with her to block out the light. "You can't run from being a star, Sirius. Some can't run from being the ones who are slaves to the moon and the night. You want the moon to help you, look closer at your wolf?"

Sirius was embarrassed at how long it took for him to get what Lily had been hinting at, especially when it had taken him most of the night to do so.

> **Sirius** : _I'm fine, go to sleep, Moony. I'm at Prongs'._

* * *

Remus hadn't expected to see Sirius, not when he had insisted Remus remain in their home while he went to James and Lily's to give Remus ' _time and space'_. As Sirius shoved possession after possession into an overnight bag— one which was actually a rather large suitcase—Remus bit back tears. Neither of them spoke, and Remus had barely been able to look Sirius in the eyes as Sirius grabbed a photo from his bedside table of the two of them. If Remus hadn't already felt like the world's biggest idiot, he did when Sirius left with a slam of the front door.

It had taken all he had to compose himself the drive home from the police station, worsened when Sirius took himself to their bathroom and burst into tears— _loudly_. Remus didn't want to inform him he could hear him, it wasn't as though Sirius had ever been shy about his bodily noises, even if Remus was. The moment, however, the front door met the frame behind Sirius, it had been a whole different level of composure, and by that, Remus wept. He curled into a ball as he tried to hug the parts of him that wanted to break and leave; Remus felt his insides snap apart, his heart cracking from the centre out, and while every decision he had thought he had made correctly, he suddenly doubted.

Remus didn't dare sleep, he didn't even want to try. He sat there on the sofa, where he had been when Sirius had left in silence. He either chose to stare out of the open window or at the photo of them on the windowsill that glared at him, the Remus inside of it point-blankly shocked.

The _real_ Remus stared back with softness, and he desperately wanted to ask the Remus in the photo what he would have done.

As an hour crept past, with no Sirius returning, Remus opted to try the television. He flicked channel after channel, brightness filling the house before the welcomed darkness of the channel loading. The television brought him no escape, with the late-evening-almost morning-shows; it was either full of soap reruns or drama-filled romances that made Remus' stomach drop to his feet. By the time he surrendered and switched it off, the moon had almost gone and the sun was beginning to wake, and Remus had no idea what he was going to do.

Everything was a mess—and it was all because of him. His scared, and frightened self had ruined everything. Sirius wanted commitment, and Remus wanted to have his cake and eat it.

He chewed on his nails as his mind played reruns of happy memories between the two of them, and as Remus phone finally died from him persistently checking for Sirius' text, Remus began to sob. His chest hurt with each chug of a breath, his bones crumbled under the weight of his failings, and as the morning broke through the horror of their fight, Remus began to see their home in a new light.

The marking on their floor from when Sirius had tried to move the bookcase without help; the tomato stain on the wall from Remus trying to twist spaghetti on a spoon, only for it to fly off and stick to the wall. Either way, whether at the time they were good or bad memories, everything glowed with happiness now. And Remus wasn't sure if he could leave it all behind.

Remus turned on his side, bringing a cushion that smelt oddly of Sirius to his nose, and continued to silently sob, his eyelids growing heavy as his body began to tire. He picked up his phone, awkwardly typing a text, before sending another. Remus held his breath until his phone buzzed an hour later, and his eyes filled with even more tears. Sirius was okay, and he had called him _Moony_ , but he knew everything was ruined.

He was sure he hadn't slept, but when their front door opened a little past seven, Remus' eyes opened with such quickness, his vision was blurred. He was so sure he was imagining him until Sirius dropped to his knees, pressing his hand against Remus' cold face, rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

"I'm not going to let you go, not unless you really, really want me too."

Remus stared into those silver eyes, the ones he always found safety in, and saw only confidence and assurance, everything that made Sirius, _Sirius_.

Sirius stroked his thumb against Remus' cheek again, like striking a match against the box, a warmth spread through Remus at the touch. "I won't give up on us, I won't. I may have cut my hair, but I need you to know that I did it for myself—"

"— _Sirius—_ "

"—Hear me out, goddamnit!" Sirius snapped, and Remus found his lips had clamped together before his brain could register he needed too. "You're one handsome son of a gun, Remus Lupin, but by fuck do you need to shut up sometimes."

The tension in his spine resolved, Remus curled into Sirius' hand, which hadn't moved from his face since the moment he had returned. He never let him go—even when Remus had.

Sirius sighed, closing his eyes as Remus watched his chest rise and fall. "I realised that last night, our fight...it was because of me, because I _don't_ listen. But worse than that, I don't communicate well." His eyes opened, and a softness had filled them that Remus had never seen—not since the time Sirius had sat above the railings in the stockroom. "I cut my hair to feel like I deserved you, but I made that choice for myself, and I realise that you made the decision to apply to the university for _you_. Because you want to fight what you've been told."

Sliding his hand out across the cushion of the sofa, Remus wove his fingers between the hand Sirius was leaning against, and the familiar warmth that usually came from skin-on-skin contact blossomed through Remus. He still felt like home, even now.

"I do not blame you for last night. Do I wish we had talked first? Of course. But, mainly, what I want to say is, if you want to break up with me because you don't love me or have fallen out of love with me—but still kind of love me-love me—then I accept. But if you're breaking up with me because you think I won't make long-distance my bitch, then I won't stand for it."

If not for the corner's of Sirius' lips beginning to curl, Remus wouldn't have known whether to take him earnestly. This was the most real conversation they had ever had, not including the argument they'd had when Sirius asked about children. Remus' heart was thumping so loudly, he was sure Sirius could hear his answer, but from the look of utter discomfort on Sirius' face, Remus assumed he couldn't and he would need to speak. The look didn't suit Sirius; it made him uncomfortable to see, especially when Sirius usually showed nothing but bravery and self-assurance, and Remus hated himself a little bit more for the whole mess.

Sirius seemed to realise this. "I don't blame you for what you said. I stormed out, and I was not the person I should have been. Adults don't walk out."

"You almost sound mature, Sirius," Remus smirked, as he playfully flicked Sirius.

Taking a deep breath, a nervous look fell over Sirius and Remus went cold at the sight. "The money I had saved for making my album? I need you to understand that what I did was the last decision I made _without_ you."

Remus lifted himself up, and he knew his hair would be in all sorts of directions from tears and restlessness. "What did you do?" He asked weakly, a nervous tremble in his voice Remus couldn't hide.

Painting a smile, one that should have been reassuring, but wasn't. "I _chose_ to use the album money to buy a bike, a motorbike. My Uncle left me a lot of money, and I had originally put it all into this place but James said he owed me, gave me a small cut of it back, and it was meant to be for what I _wanted,_ and while—"

"Your album was your dream?" Remus interrupted full of aghast.

Sirius nodded with a half-hearted grin on his lips. "But the thing with dreams, Remus, is you have a lifetime to achieve them. Right now," his finger hammering against the cushion, "I want to do all I can to make us work—if you want us to?"

Remus frowned, and he knew he shouldn't be full of confusion, not when Sirius had put his heart on the line. Especially when it was Sirius, and he needed more reassurance than anyone Remus knew collectively. "But you don't even have a license?"

"I'll get one," Sirius shrugged, seeming as nonchalant as Sirius could be. "I doubt it's hard, look how many bikes there are."

Remus stared wide-eyed. "Do you know how _dangerous_ they are?"

Snorting before rolling his head onto his shoulder, Sirius' eyes fluttered with mischief. "Did you know, Moony, that I could choke on my own hair when I'm asleep. I live dangerously daily, so don't come at me with that," Sirius said as he stared at his phone. "Do you want some more time, I realise I have given you an Oscar-worthy—"

As confidently as he was the day Sirius asked him to move in, Remus moved on the sofa cushion, shifting himself until he was able to press his lips to Sirius'—not quite as strongly as he usually would, but enough to show him he had made his decision.

"You best keep to your end of the bargain," Remus whispered teasingly, watching as Sirius allowed one eye to narrow as Remus brushed Sirius' chin with his thumb. "You know, about making long-distance your bitch."

Sirius chuckled confidently. "Long distance won't even know what fucking hit it. Now, take off your jeans because I want to show you how good I can make it up to you."

Remus let out a nervous moan, one that made Sirius wink.

"You really think I wouldn't want make-up sex, Moony?" Sirius said darkly, pulling Remus legs till they fell of the sofa, forcing him to sit up. "Plus, need to make sure you _never_ forget me."

Before he could think, before he could even hiss out a noise of protest, Sirius' mouth was on his and his mind went blank from the explosion of feelings Sirius was speaking through his action. Remus' cheeks, neck, and chest burned so much from embarrassment, he wasn't sure how his clothes didn't melt from him, but he didn't shy away from kissing him back, signalling every reckless and fearful thought he had.

As their clothes fell around their living room, fingers tracing skin, palms pressing against hips, Remus knew one thing for sure. He loved this man, and he would try every single day—even if he had no idea what else he wanted.

* * *

**oOo**


	11. Summer

**Summer**

* * *

The house was tense, not that Remus had expected everything to go back to the way it was in a few days. But when weeks went by, and the tension began to triple, Remus began to feel less brave about taking it head-on. Instead, he skirted around Sirius, attempting to appease him and talk to him as if nothing had happened. Sirius wasn't someone Remus could go up to and simply ask if he wanted to talk, he had to wait, carefully observing him until he _was_ ready too.

In his attempt to keep things as normal until then, Remus continued to do the food shop while Sirius went to James'. He cleaned the house from top to bottom—as he always did because Sirius' idea of clean was _not_ the same as Remus'. He even lifted the ban on Snape's name and played more Playstation games with Sirius than he had ever done before.

Remus thought it had been going well until he had been half-way through unpacking the shopping. The storm that had approached came with no warning, a crackle in the air that Remus hadn't heard until he heard a crack, and turned to find Sirius with an apple in hand.

"That _isn't_ where that goes."

Remus looked around the kitchen cupboard door, watching as Sirius leant himself against the counter, continuing his noisy biting of the apple. Taking a deep breath, Remus planted on a smile—one that wouldn't be taken as sarcasm, or cause a fight to ensue.

"The gravy, it doesn't go in that cupboard," Sirius added, taking a bite to punctuate his point.

Grasping the carton, Remus placed it on the counter a little harder than he would have liked. "So where does it go, Sirius? If not in the condiment cupboard, then where?"

Sirius, instead of replying, kicked off from his position and walked over to the cupboard directly beside Remus. The one Remus _knew_ held all of their snacks, like breadsticks and pretzels. He had _never_ seen the gravy granules or OXO cubes in there, and he knew they had never been in there.

"Ah, logical," he said sarcastically before he could stop himself, and Remus didn't miss the snort that came from Sirius.

Returning to the bag of shopping, Remus paid no attention to Sirius—which he wasn't sure was a good thing or not—slowly pulling out wash tablets and tea bags.

"Actually," Sirius said suddenly, and Remus bristled under the tone and the way the air crackled, "you have been putting _a lot_ of things in the wrong places."

He was being petty, that's what Remus tried to remind himself. He was simply upset because of work, and had therefore brought that frustration home. It hadn't been Remus' fault that Snape had cracked the whip, he was just in the way of the anger when Sirius came home.

"Since?"

He lightly shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant when he was actually just being petty. "The beginning."

Remus let it hit him. The dig, the obvious attack it was meant to be. He let it scrape down him like claws, and he wore the scratches with acceptance because even if Snape had been an arse and work had gotten worse, Remus had begun all of this mess. He had kept a secret, and he had tried to announce it at the right time for him, and not for Sirius, and while they had made up, truthfully, Remus knew there was a lot more time which needed to pass before it would all be okay. Before any of it would be okay.

Slowly, Remus took the gravy out and placed it back down on the counter. "I didn't realise, _otherwise_ I wouldn't have—"

"It's no issue," Sirius interrupted, turning his back to him as he lifted the lid on the bin, throwing the rest of the apple away, "I made due with _finding_ things for myself."

He hadn't been able to stop his mouth from falling open or allowing Sirius to see it as he walked past. Remus braced for contact, for their shoulders to knock, but when he found Sirius already passed him, barely a breeze brushing past him, he felt his body began to shake, tears beginning to build in his eyes. Sirius hadn't even cared to knock into him, to nudge him for his error—or continuous errors—he simply walked past, not caring.

Remus, in an effort not to crack, bit down hard on his lip as he began to taste blood and feel the sting of a fresh cut. He didn't stop, teeth gnawing as he tried to hold everything in, control all the pieces that threatened to fall all around him.

He was doing well, coping almost, until Sirius slammed the bedroom door upstairs, and the walls began to shake from the anger. The rooms filled with the toxicity of unresolved feelings and hurtful confessions. Remus had chosen to go away and he had chosen to not take Sirius' feelings to heart.

Deep down, he had blamed Sirius for being too selfish to see what Remus had dreamt about, but now that it was out in the open, and the initial wound had healed, they were left with the other ones, the deeper lacerations. The slash against both of them when Sirius had suggested their future, with marriage and children; the gash when Remus kept his application from him, severing the trust, and crippling their relationship.

Remus gripped the side of the counter with all he had until he felt his fingers begin to cramp, his chest tightened until he couldn't breathe, and the sharp tears fell down his cheeks, leaving new marks that wouldn't so easily be forgotten.

* * *

The tension hadn't resolved a few weeks later, and if anything, Sirius had begun to stop responding to Remus with words and changed them to grunts. His eyes had been fixed to his phone or the newspaper, and if not on either of those two items, they would be fixed on the television screen, pretending that Remus didn't exist.

With the sun out, and Sirius' cagey behaviour reaching a new height, Remus excused himself for most of the morning, only returning when Sirius sent him a text.

Sirius: Got a surprise at home.

Remus couldn't run. His legs and body didn't work together, his legs were lanky and he looked close to Phoebe off F.R.I.E.N.D.S if he did, but when he received that text, he knew that his trip around the local supermarket couldn't continue.

Remus: If I get home and there is a pet, I won't forgive you.

He hurriedly paid for his chewing gum, stepping out into the thick muggy air as Remus wished he hadn't gone for a long-sleeved top in this weather, as his phone buzzed again.

Sirius: Not a pet. But I'd be happy if you let me keep her inside the house.

He had ran, and he had looked idiotic and foolish. His breath had been all over the place, his sides hurt as he came in view of the house, and Remus knew his face would be covered in red-blotches. Remus, however, had little time to care as he was greeted by three smiling faces on the front garden of his and Sirius' house.

That had been a few hours ago now, and at first, Remus hadn't been able to wrap his head around it, but now it was truly and officially sunk in. James was entertaining Sirius, asking him questions he had clearly Googled as Remus observed them from the living room window. Remus felt her slide beside him without speaking, Lily's perfume floating up his nose as he smelt the petals and peach she was giving off before she nudged him with her elbow—the universal _hello_ from Lily Evans.

"You... _care_ to explain?"

Bringing the mug in his hand to his lips, Remus began to smirk. " _Mia_ and _Morty_ , they helped him buy a motorcycle."

Lily groaned, her hand rising to rub the bridge of her nose. "You know, I love my soon-to-be in-laws, but—"

"But, they're huge children who are retired and have far too much free time?" Remus offered with a smug grin, one he knew didn't fit his face. "He's been out there for…" Looking down at his wrist. "Three hours."

Her mouth fell open, her forehead scrunched. "Three? _Three_? How does—I've seen that fool get annoyed with a _Rubik's Cube_ after three minutes, how hasn't he—"

Remus snorted into his throat. "Kicked it, _thrown_ a spanner at it, screeched blue murder? Done all of that _and some_ , but…"

"He hasn't given up?" Lily asked, her face blanking.

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, he shrugged before draining the rest of his tea from his cup. He was _just_ as confused as to why Sirius was still outside, sweat pouring down his spine as he adjusted and tuned the bike. Remus hated where his mind went—for example, how Sirius was working so hard on the metal outside, but not on the two of them.

He had barely looked his way when he returned with Mr and Mrs Potter—and _Wilberforce_. Sirius barely acknowledged Remus' shocked expression when he presented the name, Mia and Morty clapping like true proud parents, and as soon as Sirius left the room, they turned to give him _that_ look. The look people gave behind Sirius' back, not wanting to hurt him, but wondering how on Earth he had so much energy.

"Not on the bike," Remus mumbled as he turned his back to the window, and he felt the eyes on him as he stepped past, moving to sink down into the sofa. "We're fighting."

"And?"

He didn't look up when Lily pulled out of the dining table chairs or when she scraped it across the floor. His heart was thumping too loud in his ears as his hand continued to shake. Remus _shouldn't_ have said anything, but it slipped out, it fell from his lips before he could pull it back by the thread it dangled on in between him and Lily.

 _And_ , Remus thought. And they weren't the same, and the world in which he knew was crumbling from the edges in. He was watching it, in slow-motion like a car crash, but he couldn't stop it, he couldn't save himself, Sirius, or the two of them.

"People fight, Remus," Lily continued. "I mean, if I don't fight with James once a day, I am sure I am broken. For one, we are dating the most immature people. Secondly, people disagree, and if you didn't—"

It was building inside of him, the turmoil, the anguish that built inside of him like a tsunami that wanted to crash down and bleed out of him. Remus wanted to be free from carrying the guilt; the same guilt that had rested on his shoulders since he pulled the trigger on their relationship, the bullet moving through the air as it threatened to tear them apart.

Rubbing his hands together, he finally looked up—finally braving the eyes that watched him. "I hurt him."

"Then fix it."

Glancing over his shoulder, catching Sirius stood up as he glanced through the window, and Remus hoped he was looking for him. He _needed_ him to be looking for him.

"I don't know how," Remus murmured, begging the eyes on the outside to connect with him.

Lily gave him a sympathetic look. "Start with a sorry, and let it go from there."

* * *

Sirius had let a hand fall over his face, the soft breeze coming in from the open window swept around the room, passing over his sweat littered forehead. It had been one rough day after another, and he wasn't sure how he was going to cope with another. Even for him, it was beginning to get too much. Work was its usual heavenly self, but their home had become somewhere much worse than the stockroom, and he hated to think that. Between _Wilberforce_ not starting and Remus avoiding him, home had become his own personal hell full of tension and awkwardness.

He hated it. He wished things would go back to how they were.

Scrunching his fingers against the sheets beneath him, bringing the cotton close to his palm so not to dig his nails into his skin, his focus on keeping his breaths slow and deep, filling his lungs as his chest expanded until it couldn't anymore. Everything was hard, even breathing, but not usually when Remus was around, but lately, with the two of them weren't fighting they weren't speaking, and everything had felt harder to accomplish.

Hearing that Remus had joined the room made his body tense. The sound of clothes hitting the floor from either annoyance or tiredness, Sirius didn't know, but the air had never felt thicker, and Sirius wasn't sure if he could continue to breathe without the amount of tension that lived within it. It felt close to splitting, ripping in two as Sirius moved the back of his hand higher up his head, peering out from underneath at Remus who was stripping off for bed.

Sirius knew they needed to talk, otherwise, there was so much in the air that it made it hard to walk through it. Words and unsaid feelings making the space not filled with furniture strenuous to walk through.

"Leave the curtains," Sirius said shakily, and Remus looked over his shoulder as Sirius shrugged. "I just...I like the moon when it's full."

Remus shook his head lightly, and Sirius knew he too was tired from battling, it was the only explanation as to why he didn't push further for an answer as he stepped closer to the bed. The mattress slowly dipped under Remus' weight, and Sirius hesitated, wanting desperately to reach out and brush his fingers down Remus' soft skin, feeling the bumps and marks that made the man he loved, _the man he loved_. The moment his back fell against the sheets, his body relaxed, knowing that neither could allow the other to sleep in the middle of a fight.

When Remus moved to sprawl beside him, Sirius wondered if he laid in a similar position to him. Sirius smirked at the idea of it, his smile spreading in the darkness, as he slid his hand across the sheets, finding Remus' fingers. He swept his thumb over them, feeling the knuckles and ridges.

"You ready to talk to me?"

Sirius licked his lips. " _Maybe_?"

Remus let out a breath through his nose and in the silence of their apartment. "Like an adult, I mean?"

"I love it when you're spunky, Moony," Sirius said with a similar sigh.

Even in all the sarcasm, in the midst of all the bitterness and bickering, Sirius knew the two of them _needed_ to clear the air. Especially while they still loved one another, before everything became poisoned and ruined. He didn't want this anymore, he wanted the men they were together before all of the bitterness. Sirius wanted Remus to be happy, and he wanted to be happy with Remus.

"I love you, I need you to know that," Remus whispered, and Sirius knew he too was afraid that if he spoke any louder, the walls would cave in on them. "But I am so scared of going. Of not being enough when I get there, of failing...but Sirius, more so than that, of losing you."

Sirius let out a gentle chuckle, one that came out before he realised why. He wasn't exactly sure what to say, but Sirius chose to leap, all the same, wanting to be honest, wanting to fall, and _possibly_ make himself look idiotic if his honesty didn't land. "Alright, let's be truthful now, you won't fail, Moony. I mean you're Remus _fuckin'_ Lupin. Your name isn't Remus _failure_ Lupin."

Sirius turned his head against the pillow, letting his hand—the one that had been draped over his forehead—drop to the side of him as he looked over, the moonlight and street lights cracking through the open curtains.

Swallowing, Sirius let out a gasp—one that was strained and difficult to keep hold of any more. "Next, do you think its all enough?"

"What?"

" _Us..._ loving one another?" Sirius asked as his heart began to free-fall in his chest.

He had expected silence; he had expected Remus to sigh and struggle with how to answer, but he wasn't prepared for Remus to squeeze his fingers so tightly. Sirius hadn't expected Remus to roll over and face him, his eyes somehow sparkling even in the night.

"Our love is...most _definitely_ enough. If anything, I think it is the only thing that is enough. So yeah, I'm sure our love specifically is enough." Remus used his other hand, the one not attached to Sirius', and rose it to Sirius' cheek. "But—"

And Sirius' felt his eyes closed with dread.

"—things have been..."

"Difficult? Strained?" Sirius interjected, opening his eyes and keeping them fixed on Remus' face, wondering if it had softened like it usually did, or if it had contorted into confusion like Sirius' would if the shoe was on the other foot. "We've argued so much—"

Dropping his hand from Sirius' face, Remus turned his other hand in Sirius' until their fingers could knot together. "We've _bickered_ , and when we have _,_ you didn't walk out _once_. I'm impressed."

Sirius snorted playfully, the corners of his lips twitching. "You're an _arse_ hole."

"All yours, if you think I'm enough."

It was natural, the smile that crossed Sirius' face, and even faced with the question sounded lucrative, because of course Remus was enough—but was he? Was Sirius ever going to be enough for Remus, the man going off to university? Remus would be surrounded by the best, the brightest, and yet, he wanted to try long-distance with him. Sirius who liked to sing and pluck at his guitar; Sirius who worked in a department store with his enemy and a man called _fuckin'_ Dumbles.

They were world's apart in how different they were, and at one stage, Sirius had loved that, but now, he wasn't so sure if it would be enough. If _he_ would be enough.

"What's going on, Sirius?" Remus whispered, and a harsh breeze brushed through the room, blowing the curtains out as more light cascaded around the room. "You're safe with me, I prom—"

"Am _I_ enough for you?"

He wished he hadn't of let it escape in such an ugly way, but as soon as the words had left Sirius' mouth, a weight had been lifted from his chest, from his shoulders and back. He felt a flicker of joy somewhere inside of him, and he wanted to sit up and place a leg over Remus and kiss the life out of him.

But Remus' expression said enough for Sirius to not do that.

" _What_?"

All the weight that had gone, returned. It was as though someone had clicked their fingers, and all of a sudden it was pushing down on Sirius' windpipe, forcing an explanation to catch in his throat and his mind to run wild.

"You're going to go off and be around people who are the same as you—people who I am not like. Is it so hard, so impossible, to see why I would be worried?" Sirius asked, truthful and direct—something he prided himself on being at least. "Remus, for Christ's sake, I am in love with you, but I don't want that to hold you back, not when...not when I know you can be great."

Remus' hand tensed, his fingers letting his hand fall free between them, and for a brief moment, Sirius was sure it was over. The two of them done completely, but then Remus shuffled against the sheets, turning his back to Sirius before a light cast over the room, almost blinding Sirius beyond help.

"You are a _fucking_ idiot, and the simple fact that I have sworn _just_ shows how much of a fucking idiot you are—"

"— _Moon—_ "

Remus continued, all the same, as his eyes became lethally dark. "—let me finish, or _so help me God_ , Sirius Onion Black—"

"—my middle name is not fuckin' _onion_ , Moony," Sirius laughed.

Remus, in a flash, put his leg over Sirius until he was sat on top off him, and it was hard to focus on anything else. It wasn't helped when Remus looked down at him with so much annoyance and adoration that it was hard to think; it was further worsened by the flaring nostrils and tense jaw.

"How could you ever, ever, think you aren't enough?" Remus questioned, a frown deepening over his brows. "I mean... _c'mon_ Sirius, you're...you. Brilliant, _handsome-as-fuck_ , Sirius. I was wrapped around your finger before I even understood if your name was _serious_ or _Sirius_."

"I know that you're saying the same word, but like they really hit my ear differently, like you can tell there is an actual difference, isn't that weird—"

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius', cutting the tangent and the speech off right at the beginning. And Sirius was grateful as his hand slid up against Remus' cheek, feeling the almost-there stubble. Sirius swept his tongue over his cracked lips, feeling the soft curls against his fingers as Remus' hands pressed against his chest for leverage. He could have got lost in the kiss, pushing Remus onto his back, stripping him off the boxers that only remained between them and making sure the man never forgot who Sirius Black was—but he didn't.

"Remus," Sirius murmured, their faces so close but not able to touch. "I love you _enough_ to let you go; if you want me too?"

A silence, one filled with possible endings and heart thumping anxiety.

"I don't want that, Sirius. Ever. I know things have been...rough, but all relationships—especially the best ones have this, I'm sure of it."

Sirius averted his eyes, finding the look in Remus' eyes too pure for his own eyes to be looking at.

" _Hey_ ," Remus said, "I love you."

"I love you too," Sirius replied.

Shrugging, Remus offered a smile. "Do you think if we both love one another, and stop keeping things from the other, that maybe, just maybe, we can make this work?"

Sirius thought for a second, staring up at the ridiculously attractive man sat on him, with the absurdly smart brain and the impossibly kind heart, and knew if he let him go, he'd be a bigger idiot than everyone already thought he was.

"I don't want to lose you," Sirius muttered, his voice cracking as he placed his palm against Remus' heart. "And I know I've not been showing that because I'm a huge dick, but I am just...I'm so fucking terrified, Moony."

He saw the chance, the place to put down all his weapons and hold his hands up, and even wave the white flag. Sirius was at the point, the cross marked on the ground where he needed to be just as honest, to be just as vulnerable.

"How I feel, there's nothing on this green Earth that feels the same," Sirius announced. "The way I am with you, the person I want to be _with_ you, it wouldn't be like that with anyone else, and it is scary-as-shit. I don't do this, Remus. I don't do feelings and caring, and love and all the other bullshit because I can't let myself get hurt. So, I'm a dick, and I'd like to say I won't be a dick again, but…I will, and I'll apologise then too, but, I'll still be a dick that doesn't deserve you, and I need to know if that is okay—if that is enough for you?"

He took a second, a minute, the rest of the words clinging to his lips, pleading with Sirius not to let them go. But he knew he needed too.

"Because if it isn't, Moony. I will do the right thing, even if it feels wrong, and even if I know I'll always regret letting you go."

Remus placed his hand on top of Sirius', their fingers joining over his beating heart. "You won't because I don't want to lose you. I just...need to do this, but it doesn't change how I feel about us."

"You just...need to do this for you?" Sirius asked, trying to banish the tears that wished to spill.

Nodding, Remus smiled. "I just need to see if I can, even if I am terrified."

Sirius swallowed, trying to vanish the burning in his throat from the emotions he had attempted to bury. "Being scared is a good thing, Moony. It means you care."

"Good," Remus began to grin, "because I'm terrified of not being enough for you also, and losing you, and not loving you right."

Bringing Remus' lips to his, Sirius softly pushed all the words he was dying to say into it, hoping his mouth would be enough reassurance, but as their lips broke and airbrushed over their lips, Sirius felt something knot in his stomach.

"You're enough, Moony. Every single day, even when I am a despicable idiot, _you_ are enough," Sirius said with so much truth that it almost hurt, all of his walls down at his feet as he stood exposed in front of the only person he knew truly _saw_ him. "I'm sorry, and I know I say it, but this time, I—"

"Forgiven," Remus softly spoke. "Now, let's make up."

Sirius wasn't sure he had ever moved so quickly in his entire life as he urged Remus down into the mattress. The air had cleared, and he found himself able to move freely, able to reach out and touch Remus without care of worry. He grazed his teeth over his neck, hearing the soft moan he loved so much; Sirius brushed his hands over his shoulders before cupping his cheeks, and there was no ramifications, no concern that touched him as he did.

It felt better, almost cleansed and restarted; he could make it, they could make it.

"You're it, Moony," Sirius said, pressing a kiss to his lips before pressing one against the centre of his neck. "You, are, it."

Remus' eyes flashed, green mixing with silver, and it made a coil tighten in Sirius' lower stomach. "Prove it, Padfoot."

Sirius groaned as he ran his hands down Remus' chest, kissing his way down until he reached the layer of fabric between him.

* * *

**oOo**


	12. Winter

**Winter**

* * *

Remus missed Sirius.

He had done since the moment Sirius waved him off, and Remus spent the first hour or so wiping his eyes and cheeks as he drove on the motorway. It didn't get easier when he arrived, unpacking his possessions in a room made only for him. The lump in his throat didn't lessen the first week or the second, and Remus began to wonder if it would ever go.

Sirius tried to Skype call most evenings, the two of them attempting to eat their tea together to maintain some normality. Most of the time, _it worked._ But sometimes, it shone a light on the horrid gap they both felt, the space in their hearts magnified by distance and words never spoken.

Remus felt as though he should reassure Sirius that he was part of his future, but the timing never felt right. Sirius would be in an excitable mood, having written a "corker of a song", or he'd been in a bad mood because a Snape had forced him to do something or _another._ Even if the words sat on the tip of his tongue, Remus never let them spill. When the isolation crept in, and the loneliness of being an older student—who had no interest in drinking his liver into submission—kicked in, Remus questioned his decision.

He wanted to be a teacher, but did he have to train to be one so far away? He would ask himself over and over as he lay on his back with his phone against his chest. Did coming here feel like everything had aligned, just as Remus had hoped.

The simple answer? No.

It felt like a mistake, one he realised heavily three months into his course.

> **Remus:** _Hey Pads, do you think you'll be free to chat later? I know you've been busy._

If Remus was truthful, everything fucking ached. His head, his toes, but most of all, Remus' heart throbbed. It felt as though he had been ripped from him, and as he realised quickly he couldn't quite live without Sirius, the feeling only worsened.

His classes seemed disinteresting, the prospect of being a teacher didn't feel like his main goal—and everything, the fights and the fallouts, seemed ridiculous now when he thought back.

> **Remus:** _No pressure if you aren't, I know you're working hard._

Sirius had been more than busy; he had almost been off the grid. At first, Remus had thought he was mad at him, but a couple of clicks on Owlbook—the social service that Remus had been sucked into when he arrived here—he saw the vast number of places Sirius had been tagged in. He had been to lunches, shopping, and various other things Remus suspected were wedding related, spent with James or Lily—but he still couldn't help but feel left out.

Remus missed his face. _Desperately_.

And while the sights out of his window were breathtaking, they never took his breath away, not like Sirius did. The mornings in Scotland were beautiful, but they weren't the same beauty as Remus was used to—or the ones he really wanted now that he had left them behind. Remus, without realising, had longed for university life for so long, he realised he hadn't had time to think about what if it wasn't for him. Which with each day that passed, Remus realised it wasn't.

He was homesick. He missed his doctors, his schedule. The very things that Remus had felt shackled by, he suddenly desperately wanted.

Remus wanted his old life back, and wished with all he had, that he had looked closer to home—to Sirius—to learn.

Clicking the screen of his laptop, Remus had no idea what he was doing—especially when he should have been doing research. He had no control when his finger clicked _OwlBook_ for the twelfth time that hour _,_ and Remus didn't stop himself when he scrolled until he found _Sirius Black_ on his news feed. He sighed in relief when he saw an update, and a green bubble to show he was online, and as Remus smiled at Sirius' profile picture. The two of them, stood on the hill, looking far happier than Remus could even fake in Scotland.

The most recent update caught Remus' eye next: _**YouTube Video - Sirius Black:**_ _Missing You_

Before he could stop himself, Remus' eyebrow raised, and without thought, he clicked the link, feeling sad that Sirius had never mentioned he had written a song and thought about posting it.

Not only was he instantly blessed with the sight of the best thing in his life, but in the background was his front room—their home. It had the same marks, and the awful paint job and Remus missed it, more than he thought possible. Whatever he had been thinking when Sirius' strummed the guitar in his hand, faded to nothing, and every sense in Remus' body tuned into the man he had left behind. The man he knew was more broken than he cared to admit.

Sirius' hair seemed longer than it had done the last time they spoke, and the fact it almost met his neck meant that he had chosen to grow it out again, something Remus happened to be thrilled about. But again, he wished he knew for himself, instead of finding it out via Owlbook—their last few night calls either being in superbly dark rooms as the nights drew in, or missed entirely due to Sirius' commitments. He tried to think of how short it had been, but when he failed to remember, Remus went back to staring at his eyes.

As Sirius looked up, and their eyes met— _unknowingly_ —Remus grabbed his chest, trying to will the pain to stop slicing his apart at the sight of Sirius' longing and sadness. It was almost difficult to see.

Sirius was hauntingly beautiful, and as each word hit Remus' ear, he felt every single painful stab of the lyrics.

_You were my everything, but now you're out of touch, out of sight._

That line. That hauntingly painful line circled Remus' brain for a whole five minutes as he stared at the blank screen. His second thought was, I don't want to be here. I don't want to be without him.

Remus had been in Scotland for three whole months, and he didn't need any longer to realise he had made a mistake. He should _never have_ left, he should _never_ have ended things with Remus, and he should never have— _fuck_ , Remus hissed, _did I just peck at, Sirius?_

Clicking it again, hoping to retract the peck, but realised, horribly, that all he was doing was sending more.

"Double fucking, fuck, _fuck_ ," Remus hissed, slamming the lid of his laptop shut as he tried to catch his breath. His jumper—an appropriate choice earlier when it had been chilly—was now itching him, making him want to yank it from his skin and throw it in the corner. "Oh _fuck,"_ he repeated more to himself, staring at the closed laptop. "I want Sirius Black more than I want this place."

Remus may have been smart compared to some, he may have wanted nothing more than to educate people and become a teacher. But right now, he was the smartest-dumbest person on the planet, and there was nothing more he wanted than Sirius, beside him, holding his hand.

Grasping for his phone, knocking over pen pots and his Pot Noodle, Remus unlocked the screen and quickly pressed the quick-dial number for Sirius—the one he had _never_ changed. It felt like an eternity for it to connect, and as Remus heard the connecting click, his heart rose, only to crash into his feet.

" _The number you have called is currently unavailable, please call back later._ "

Remus licked his lips, trying not to crack or break apart. "He's not too busy for you," he whispered to the room, the wind howling at the window in response. " _Oh,_ bollocks, of course he is."

Bringing his phone to his lips, Remus nibbled slightly on the edge, rolling his free hand inside his jumpers sleeve. He paced, three steps forward, rotate, three steps back, for what felt like forever.

"I need to go home…" he mumbled, looking out at the mist that clouded over the lake. "I need to be with Sirius."

* * *

Sirius _missed_ Remus.

He felt like his entire left arm had been snatched and taken to Scotland with him. He was mad, but not at Remus—never at Remus. He was angry at Scotland for being so _fucking_ beautiful. Of course, it had castles, and rolling hills; obviously it had lakes and nature, but it also had Remus— _his_ Remus _._

 _Everything_ around Sirius reminded him of Remus, and he knew it should have—especially since a lot of the possessions left behind were Remus' too. But they had shared a life here. Coming up to a year of living together, and now they were apart, and it stung, cursing his veins as he tried to strum his guitar and poisoned his mind when he tried to distract himself.

Music had been his only escape. He wrote songs about longing to the memories of his curly-haired love; he penned lyrics about love and missing them. But on a Sunday in the middle of September—when Sirius was _desperately_ missing Remus—he penned two songs, one he had just posted live on Owlbook, and the other about his parents.

James had got tears in his eyes, Lily had softly bit her lip as tears coursed down her cheeks, and Pete looked shocked at hearing Sirius' story. As he sang each lyric, Sirius felt the emotions he had when he lived at home: not feeling good enough, anger, resentment, bitterness. And when the song came to a close, and Sirius' eyes opened as he stared around the walls of his their living room, Sirius noticed for the billionth time how much better his life was with Remus in it.

Which made the emptiness inside him churn even more.

Sirius strummed against the strings, tapping his palm against the glossed wood as James continued to lick envelopes. The wedding was six months away, and he—much to Sirius' amusement—had told Lily he had sent them out weeks ago. He strummed again as James hissed at another papercut, he softly hummed as James yelped at the sight of blood, and while the sound coming from the strings sounded pleasant, it was not perfect. Nothing had seemed perfect since he had waved Remus off, and it grated on him more than he cared to admit.

"Oi?"

Sirius tilted his head, raising his brows as he met James' expectant stare. "Yes, Sir Prongs—King of Interrupting thoughts?"

"You alright?"

 _No. Of course, I'm fucking not._ "My song has fifteen _thousand_ views, and it's been two days. I'm fuckin' brilliant."

James dropped his head to his chest, giving Sirius puppy-dog eyes and a ' _I know you aren't'_ stare. "Talk to me."

Letting out a defeated sigh, Sirius stood the guitar up beside him before rubbing his hands down his jeans. "I don't know why here—" _me_ "—wasn't enough, and I'm… frustrated because I wish he was here, and…"

Sirius pressed his chin to his chest, fighting crying, not wanting to burst apart again. Not when it's all he had done since Remus had left. He had eaten more ice cream than a woman going through a break-up, and a part of him felt as though they _had_ broken up, even if they spent most nights talking until one of them fell asleep. It didn't feel like it had and it worried Sirius—it twisted in his chest, making him feel breathless—because what if this was the start.

"And?" James asked a concerned look met with narrowed brows that forced his glasses down his nose.

Resting his weight on his thighs, Sirius clapped his hands together. "I'm worried I'll lose him."

James shook his head, sucking gently on his finger. "He'll come back."

"How d'you know?"

It wasn't as though Sirius expected an immediate response, but the silence in the house made his heart sink. James had an answer for everything, and yet now, when Sirius needed him to have one, he didn't. He was silent, almost too silent. He was set to give up, to go into the kitchen and find a bottle of whisky and drink it until it didn't hurt anymore. Needing, desperately, to not miss Remus for one second—even if he didn't stop, even if Sirius didn't sleep and continuously offered himself for bridal duties and groom duties, just so couldn't be alone. Everything he had tried, hadn't worked.

"Because it's how I felt about Lily." Sirius looked up to see James shrug, simply and lightly, as though that answered _all of it._ "You see, you're both too close to yourselves to see it, but you light the room up when you're together. But most of all, Sirius, you miss him _that_ much."

He could feel the early signs of a deep blush coming on, and Sirius tried to busy his hands, hoping to fight the embarrassing colour from washing his cheeks.

Sirius placed his usual smirk across his lips. "Any idiot would have told you that you and Evans would have ended up together."

James laughed, rubbing his stubble with his palm. "Same to you about Moony. I knew it from date number one."

Sirius chuckled. "You're wise, brother."

Nodding, James smiled, standing up as Sirius rose too, the two meeting in the centre of the living room, as their hands met and each was pulled into the other one's chest.

"He'll come back, and you'll both be fine."

Sirius nuzzled his head into James' shoulder, remembering the last time he had done this—the night the Potters' invited him into their home bruises covering his sides.

His body didn't hurt as much as then, but Sirius wasn't sure he could say his heart didn't, especially as his eyes wandered to the picture on the windowsill, the one that screamed perfection.

* * *

Remus hated hospitals.

It wasn't just the smell, all clinical and erasing, but the temperament, what it stood for. Hospitals were meant to save people, and a lot of the time they did, but the feeling of death still clung to the walls, and attached itself to Remus' fears, weighing him down more than his own worries did. Remus has _always_ hated hospitals, and on each visit, he always told himself the next wouldn't be as bad, and each time he was proved wrong.

In London, he had gotten used to his doctor. He was an arse, but he was Dr. Moody and he had been his doctor from the moment he was diagnosed as a child, and followed Remus up as he got older. He had a kindness to his face that never worried Remus, and when his disease worsened, Dr. Moody would always relax him and tell him there was so much more they could still do.

Dr. Riddle was the opposite. The man was gruff, bad-tempered, and his face had no kindness or softness to it. His features were sharp, and Remus suspected he'd find him attractive if not for the coldness the man emitted. He had seen him twice: the first time he moved up the week before term started, and a week ago for a check-up, and Remus still wasn't used to him.

Especially when this _particular_ visit hadn't been arranged by Remus, it had been arranged by _them_. It made Remus more apprehensive than normal, especially when he had decided that he was going to stay for at least the year, and the moment he did Dr. Riddle's secretary, Mr Avery, had forced him to skip his lecture. That had _never_ happened with Dr. Moody, _never_.

Remus, in his panic, had called Sirius at least ten times from the moment he had seen the video to the afternoon when he had visited the hospital. But still, no answer.

> **Remus** : _Don't worry too much, I just missed your voice._

He hated when he was a liar, but protecting Sirius was often more important.

> **Remus** : _I love you and miss you._

His hands brushed down his chinos, attempting to smooth out the creases as he focused on the crackling sound of the television. Remus did _not_ want to focus on whatever Dr. Riddle would say.

> **Remus** : _Don't reply quickly or anything, Christ ;)_

"Mr _Lupin?_ " Dr. Riddle called, and Remus didn't miss the heavy amount of disdain in his surname as he raised his hand to indicate he was here—even if he was the _only_ person waiting.

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, sliding over the silent button as he did as he rose from the chair and tried to paint on a smile. Each step to Dr. Riddle's office felt much worse than any other walk he had taken. His mind began to fog, his palms became sweaty, and the sound of his heartbeat began to thump in his head like a drum. Remus was sure he was going to pass out, hoping and praying he made it to the chair before he did.

Dr. Riddle was already sat behind his desk, for someone who walked with such authority, he was surprised his desk was so plain. Remus closed the door behind him, clutching the wood of the door for stability for a second longer than necessary, before turning and sinking into the chair. Dr. Riddle noticed none of those things, which was ironic for how often he shouted at Remus to be aware of his symptoms.

"It isn't good, Remus."

 _That_ was how he began the conversation, and the sweat building in Remus' armpits and along his forehead increased drastically.

Dr. Riddle looked up, frowning before placing the notes on the desk and his blue eyes piercing into Remus as though he wanted to cut him open just with his sight. "You aren't dead yet no need to be so pale."

"Oh…" Remus replied, twitching his head in fake shock. "I wasn't aware." His sarcasm wasn't appreciated.

"Your blood tests aren't looking great, your GFR—"

Remus swallowed, interrupting. "My _what?_ "

Moody sighed frustrated, as though Remus was _expected_ to understand exactly what he was referring too. "Glomerular filtration rate: GFR?"

"Oh yes, _that_ ," Remus snarled sarcastically, losing what little patience and control he had.

"I thought you were a student?" Riddle pressed, staring him down with his sharp eyes.

Shuffling in his seat, Remus tried to feign confidence. "Yes, I am. Not of lupus or GFR _or whatever that is,_ though, otherwise, I'd be treating myself."

Dr. Riddle seemed to ignore the dig, spreading his hands over Remus' notes and removing both his eyes from staring down at him. "The results aren't looking great, we cannot continue this management anymore. Your kidney is showing poor performance," Remus gulped as the doctor paused. "It's time for some dialysis, Remus."

The room span at that word. _The_ word that had haunted Remus for the last fifteen years. It was the word he had heard most often—the _last resort_ before a possible surgery, the option after all the other options. And now he was here, on the option before the last.

"Understandably you have a lot to think—"

"You're going to admit me, aren't you?" Remus asked, cutting in and not caring for the panic in his voice. "Begin right away?" Dr. Riddle rubbed the top of his nose as Remus began to laugh hysterically, feeling control and logic slip away from him, descending into the air of the room, and vanishing from his grip. "Is it one or both?"

Dr. Moody sighed, this time depleted, and full of anguish. It was the most _human_ Remus had ever seen him, and ironically at the only time Remus felt anything but human. He felt like an alien to his usual self, out of options and unable to grasp and focus.

"We are looking at one kidney, but your other isn't currently doing so well—"

"—Without the other," Remus finished, trailing off as he dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. "How long will I be in?"

The room filled with thick tension, and Remus had already braced for the worst. "To be honest, I'm quite surprised you haven't collapsed. Once you're settled, we will review everything else, including the length of stay."

The dream of receiving his diploma seemed to shift from his grasp—even if he had been arguing with himself about whether he even wanted to receive it. That morning had been his choice, this was life's choosing. As he closed his eyes, the darkness surrounding the vision of him in his cap and gown was engulfed by it, leaving a barrenness land of nothing in Remus' mind.

"This isn't the end yet, Remus," Dr. Riddle said, and even his gruff but determined voice didn't hook around Remus and bring him back to the room.

He rocked his head in his hands, squeezing his eyelids together as he forced himself not to cry, and he was nearly successful until the little voice in the back of his head spoke: _are you sure it isn't the end?_ Whatever slice of positivity Remus had left, suddenly evaded his figurative grasp, and he felt himself cave in, cracking from the inside out, as he broke into pieces.

"Can you—can you call my dad?"

Dr. Riddle nodded, stiff and rigid. "I called him first, he's driving up to meet you."

"Brilliant," Remus lied, sinking back into his chair.

* * *

**oOo**


	13. Winter

**Winter**

* * *

Going home _had_ felt like he had failed.

It was all Remus could think about as he rested his head against the window, watching the trees and cars whizz by as he ignored his father. Remus had _failed_. He hadn't become a teacher, he had probably broken his relationship with the man he loved, and leaving London had been an epic fail on all fronts.

When Remus left, he had said goodbye to everyone; friends, hospital staff, and even colleagues. He had made a big deal out of leaving, sporting a smile and wearing confidence he had never known, and it surprised him how sad some seemed, considering they had only known him for about eighteen months. Now he was to go back to face them all; he would have to walk into the hospital and see Fenrir and know that for the rest of the man's career, Remus would be his patient.

He felt numb, and not from the painkillers. Every part of him was cold and dead, especially after a night of crying to himself. The moon had hung over him, shimmering through the open window and unclosed curtains, laughing at him for how much he had fucked up.

When Remus was little, he had stared up at the moon from either his bed or the hospital, and he had made promises—one's he knew he'd never keep—with the man that resided in the moon. The night he had driven to the police station, he had made the same promise—I won't hurt Sirius, I will just be honest. And yet, once more Remus had lied because Sirius _was_ hurt, and probably still was.

He felt a hand on his arm, shaking him back to the present, and Remus cast a look at his father, meeting an expression that spelt only worry.

"You aren't talking," Lyall said, returning his hand to meet the other on the steering wheel. "You are _never_ not talking."

Remus shrugged to only himself, knowing his father's attention had returned to the road ahead. "Don't feel like it."

"Remus, I'm going to tell you something your mum would have said if she were here," Lyall said as Remus watched him grip the leather of the wheel tighter, "this _isn't_ the end for you. It's a different path, but one you were always meant to be on."

He tried not to, but Remus snorted. He snorted because it was ridiculous to think there had been a path waiting for him all this time; it was stupid to consider that there was some silver lining to all this misery. There wasn't, Remus knew that, because if there was, why were there two broken hearts amongst it? Why did there _need_ to be tears and heartache when life could have guided him the entire time?

"You won't believe me, you never do," Lyall chuckled, tilting his head as he smiled, "but, that's okay, one day you will, and then you'll thank me."

Remus bit the inside of his mouth, in between telling his father off and being quiet, but thankfully decided on neither. He turned his focus back to the road, watching the tarmac zoom past, making his head feel light.

"Thanks for picking me up, Dad," Remus said softly, shuffling his back against the seat as his bookcase dug into the back of him.

Lyall tapped Remus on the leg. "No problem, son. Sirius is at the house, he's been out of his mind. I almost thought he'd climb the walls."

Remus felt himself perk up, a flicker of something inside of him before the whole of him wanted to beam from the sound of his name. He tried to hide it, not wanting to show any difference in his attitude, not in front of his father.

"He isn't an _animal_ dad."

The sound of his dad chuckling to himself was all Remus heard next, letting his eyes drift out of the window.

"I feel like I failed."

He felt his father's eyes fall on to him, and Remus didn't need to meet them to see the sorrow and pity in them. It filled the car, like the smell of a car freshener. It clung to his clothes, it floated in the air surrounding them. It wouldn't clear, even with the air con on or the window open, it just stuck around, taunting him.

"My body failed me, _again._ And everyone knew it would happen, everyone knew it wouldn't last on strength and positive thoughts alone," Remus continued, rolling the sleeve around his fingers as he lightly sniffed. "I want _so badly_ to help people, to teach people like me—I wanted to be a light for someone–and...and instead, I'm just–just a failure who couldn't even do a term at a school."

The dam snapped, the tears fell and crashed down Remus' cheeks like an angry ocean meeting the beach. They were unapologetic, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath and his ribs aching under the weight of holding it all together.

"I let you down. I let S-Sirius down, and most of all—worst of all—I let myself d-down." Remus turned from the window, resting the back of his head against the headrest. "I wanted to make mum proud of me."

He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears and the annoyance of crying fiercely glowing under his cheeks. His fists had balled up, and the desperation for fresh air rose in Remus like a dragon—a fire in his throat that forced words to rise over his tongue.

That was when the car pulled over dramatically, Remus' head nearly cracking into the window as he ripped his eyes open. He stared, through tear-filled eyes, as his father ripped off his own seatbelt and nodded his head out of the car—and Remus knew better than to argue. Following him, Remus stepped out of the car, the cold chill of a northern evening fell over him, and he fought a shiver.

"Scream."

"What?" Remus hissed.

His father gave him a look, the _do-as-I-say_ look. "Scream. Like you did when you were a boy. When you were angry and upset at the world and the doctors and us. Scream."

Remus opened his mouth but found no words came and he stared blankly at his father, somehow needing him to do something—help in some way.

"Remus, m'boy. You have failed _no one._ You have done everything and more. You fight every _single_ day!"

He shook his head, acidic tears burning the backs of Remus' eyes as his fist clenched so tightly his stumpy nails dug into his palm. "Then why does it feel like I fucked up, Dad?"

It was more a whisper, but it was a start, and Lyall nodded with a smile.

"It feels like someone took a spike and _rammed_ it through my fucking heart. In one hand I got a boy who fucking loved me, and in the other, I was accepted by a school I had dreamt about. The same one you met mum at." Using his sleeve, Remus dragged it over his chin, wiping the spit from his near-yell. "It isn't fair. Why do I always have to choose, why can't I be happy? Why do _I have to be sick?"_

A sob escaped at the end, punctuating the word, and Remus was set to fall to his knees, allow the ground to mark his jeans and bruise his skin. But arms caught him—not the arms he wanted, but arms that had always been there.

"Y'alright, Remus," Lyall whispered soothingly, holding Remus tightly—just like he had when he was a child.

It was almost a hug, but Remus didn't care what it was as he wrapped his arms around his father. Neither of them had done this in years, not since everything was fine and his father hadn't begun drinking. Back when Remus didn't feel like a failure for loving who he loved, before he found himself able to follow the rules.

"I've got you. I promise."

Remus nodded, wiping his face against his father's coat. "Yeah?" He whispered.

"Yeah, son. I've got you."

* * *

Remus didn't remain at his father's for long. For one thing, the childhood memories began to prickle at his skin, and the trips down memory lane had worn thin. Another being that Sirius had begun to irritate his father immensely and when the two began arguing, Remus found it extremely difficult to remain relaxed.

Never being the most assertive soul, Remus chose to break the news over dinner, something that didn't pan out as well as he'd hoped. The thought of food distracting them, possibly softening the blow, failed to make its mark until Remus pointed out that going home would be best for all of them, otherwise one of them would be dead, and Remus was _not_ made for prison.

It took very little time to pack, and before Remus knew it, Sirius had bounded out to the car, practically skipping with his possessions and Remus', and it was hard not to smile as Remus shakily walked to his father's car.

"You be good to her," Lyall said, placing his hands inside his jeans as he sniffed loudly.

Remus smirked. "I know he's a little overzealous, but referring to him as a female is rude, Dad." With the chuckle booming from his father, Remus nudged him. "I'll look after the car, I promise. She'll be back on your drive soon enough."

He missed his own car. The little thing that had taken him to Scotland, forever abandoned due to a kidney that just couldn't cope. His father had made the decision to gift it to the university for auction, something the school had been far too pleased about—especially when it needed a new set of tyres and a fan belt.

Going home felt oddly comforting, stepping into the place that hadn't changed much, and the same stains stared back, annoying Remus as they always had done. Not that he had time to worry over them, Sirius had guided him to their bedroom without much thought, helped Remus to get settled into the sheets.

Day hurried by, sleep being both Remus' best friend and a thief, stealing the day. He briefly heard Sirius come in from work and even parts of conversations. " _I'm going to see Prongs'_ ", or " _Your dad's been for the car_."

There was so much in the air, so much that hadn't been spoken, and Remus wanted to clear it. He wanted to pick out the tough ones, get them out of the way quickly, but found himself unable as he watched Sirius unpack his suitcases.

"I don't know who I am, Sirius."

Sirius had his back to him, but Remus knew he had tensed. His hands slowly closed the drawer before turning around to face him, a worried, but pensive look upon his face—one, in Remus' opinion, didn't seem like it should be there.

Sirius shrugged—and that, at least, Remus had expected—before he moved his mouth from side to side. "For one, you're alive. For now, focus on that, and see where it takes you."

He crossed the room, and Remus followed him the entire time. Even though he could feel their sheets beneath his hands, he couldn't _quite_ believe Sirius was here, with him, the two of them able to touch. The mattress dipped as Sirius dramatically fell down onto it, and Remus—who usually protested—instead smiled at how normal everything felt.

Remus curled his head into his shoulder, biting down on his lip as he tried to stop himself from crying. "I heard you sing. I saw it the day before I was admitted."

He felt Sirius stiffen, and Remus felt his throat dry.

"I told you to stay off social media," Sirius said plainly, and Remus' chest tightened, his hands pressing against his t-shirt as he mentally clutched at his lungs beneath it with an iron grip until Sirius let out a sigh. "I wanted to sing it to you I just posted it in case I chickened out."

"Chickened out? You? _Never._ "

Sirius placed his fingers under Remus' chin, bringing his eyes up to meet his. "I wasn't replying to you because I was on the train, scared out of mind that I would come up there, and you'd not want to see me. Your dad called me when I reached Manchester. Did you know direct trains from London to Scotland cost a kidney? I didn't either."

"You came to see me?" Remus whispered.

"Yes, of course, I did! Of course, I _would,_ " Sirius laughed, spreading his hand up into Remus' hair. "And then you had to go and get all dramatic on me and almost die! _Again._ You really need to find a better way of asking for attention, Remus. You're becoming a problem."

Remus blushed, his ears feeling as hot as fire. "Sorry."

"You will be, bloody arsehole," Sirius smirked as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. "But, I guess you're stuck with me. With all my handsomeness and wild bedroom skills."

Chuckling, Remus rested his head back against the bed frame. "How will I cope?"

"Not sure," Sirius said, "but you'd better. I can't be some depressive singer who lost the love of his life at twenty-five, Moony. It doesn't bode well for my career as a hot acoustic mess on legs."

Remus smiled, finding his brain stuck on one part of what Sirius had said. The words rolling around his mind as though they were on a screen, and he was reading them continuously as he tried to process them.

_..lost the love of his life.._

_love of their life._

"I'll try and not go anywhere. For your career," Remus added, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

"You're a kind soul, Remus _Moony_ Lupin. Thank you."

* * *

Christmas passed in a flash, happy memories being made with friends. The Potter's had invited them all for food, and Remus' father was invited too. Christmas Day felt like it had done in the good old days. Sirius had been given time off—and Remus suspected it was his recent diagnosis that did it—the two of them spent as much time as they could to make up for the time apart.

They bickered over silly things, and the cabin fever Remus was suffering. As New Year approached, the fireworks exploding overhead, the pettiness dissolved as they curled into one another.

January hit hard and fast, cold wind and icy temperatures, and with Remus feeling weaker, his appointments doubled. Most of the time, Sirius figured out a way to be there, but of late, Snape had been making his life hell—and Remus was fighting his natural urge to go down there and rip him a new one.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," Remus would say, pressing a kiss to Sirius' lips. "You know me."

Sirius would look at him, not believing the lie but not wanting to fight either. "You'll call me immediately?"

"Immediately," Remus replied.

Remus hadn't.

Instead, he had been turning his mobile over and over again in his hand. Remus didn't know how he got here, but he was glad to be sat on the old sofa, surrounded by things Remus recognised and loved. The hospital had brought no comfort to him, it had always been his own personal _hell_ , and Remus hated that it was a place everyone went too. He had craved being in the walls of their home from the moment he was forced into the small room, Fenrir having come upon the request of the doctor who broke the bad news.

His house—his and _Sirius'_ —felt like home. It _was_ home. But today, it felt it even more. Especially when the one he had formally always known as _home_ was now missing the only occupants who made it so.

The very thought made Remus' eyes burn, and he wasn't sure whether to give in and let the acidic tears cut down his face, or continue to fight them. If he let the walls down, he doubted he'd be able to erect them again; if he continued to fight, he knew he'd deplete his energy and crumble dramatically somewhere unsafe.

One of Remus' greatest fears was making a spectacle in public, both the eyes upon him and unneeded attention piercing him.

Remus had begun to settle into solitude, his phone rotating in his hands being the constant that kept him in place. If he didn't turn his phone, he would crumble—and so the expectation he thrust upon himself became harder to ignore until Sirius came home.

Like any day, Sirius _burst_ through their house like a human disco ball. He was animated, he was loud, and he was colourful—it was only a shame he didn't pick up on the hues Remus had been putting into the world; if he had, Sirius may have stopped trying to change the grey of the room into something the sun would feel threatened by.

" _Hey!_ Can't wait to hear about your hospital appointment. And! _I got you_ your _favourite_ peanut butter, I know you _always_ complain that it sticks to the roof of your mouth, but I know a _guilty pleasure_ when I hear one…"

Remus tried to speak but found his lips were glued together. He instead continued to turn the phone, burning a hole into the carpet so intently it was a surprise it hadn't burst into flames.

"... _also_ …"

He wondered if Sirius knew he wasn't listening or whether he continued because he liked the sound of his own voice. Neither would have surprised Remus, Sirius wasn't known for his attention to detail when excited.

"...they had a sale on meat, so you know I got you that steak you love. Although, still not sure why you _love_ medium rare with a hint of extra _rare_. Blood is gross…"

"Sirius," Remus said, finding himself able to speak, cutting through the air.

Turning his head, pausing in his unpacking of the shopping bags, Sirius nodded and all the words in Remus' throat became stuck. They balled together, entwining into a mess that lodged painfully against his voice box.

"Oh fuck, what did they say? Did they...are you going to die?" Sirius muttered.

All the colour had drained from Sirius' face as he stepped from the kitchen into the living room. Remus shook his head, not able to even think about _that_ , about _his_ appointment, not when he had found out something so much worse when he left.

Remus felt himself being pulled from the present and being thrust into the past. His phone _constantly_ ringing, and Remus becoming increasingly more annoyed at _Withheld Number._ He had walked the corridors, processing the information about his kidney, about the donation he'd need and that he'd need to ask family. Remus' mind went to his father, and for some reason on the next call from the unknown person, Remus answered.

He still wasn't sure if he was glad or not. An empty hole had been dug into his chest, and Remus wasn't sure if he would ever been able to fill it.

Remus watched as Sirius' eyes softened, a clarity in his eyes that physically pained Remus to stare at. He thought there was good news, and that Remus was just being his usual self. Remus wasn't, and he wanted to spit that out. Knowing he _needed_ to speak. Knowing Sirius needed words, because Sirius needed the truth, he needed to understand.

"My dad has died," Remus said, not choking on his words. They had flowed easily, as though it wasn't painful at all.

Except it was.

He would have cried from how much it hurt, but he found himself unable too. Even when Sirius dashed towards him, sitting beside him and engulfing him in arms, Remus found himself _unable_ to process. Unable to feel or think as the two of them crashed down onto their knees on the floor.

"Car accident. Dead upon arrival at the hospital."

His mind couldn't think of the words, his brain had shut down, closing for the day. Remus couldn't process anything around him, except for one thing.

"I thought he'd survive me," Remus said, snorting at the last word. "He was a difficult man, but he was…" meeting Sirius' gaze, Remus felt his chest tighten, "he was _my_ difficult man, y'know? He was _my old man._ The voice of reason, when reason wasn't ready to be heard."

Sirius' hand slid up and down Remus back, and he wanted it to stop, but he also wanted to curl into him. He didn't want comfort, but he _needed_ comfort; he wanted to be alone, but couldn't face just his own company,

"I'm here for you."

Four _bold_ words. Four small words Remus had needed to hear but had never expected too. This was a _lot._ More than what Sirius had signed up for.

Remus nodded, knowing nothing he could say would be able to express his gratitude. He found himself staring at Sirius, eyes narrowed as he tried to read the expression lingering before him. It was warm, soft...natural, but Remus found himself unable to meet it for too long, finding his skin becoming irritable the more he did.

"You're safe," Sirius whispered against Remus' head, and a wall crumbled, a sob passing from his lips.

"You're okay," Sirius whispered again as another crack appeared.

"You're not alone," Sirius finally whispered, and the entire wall fell to Remus' feet, and he broke, tears falling in record speed.

One thought not able to stop revolving around Remus' mind.

_But none of those things are true, are they Sirius?_

And Remus' brain wouldn't _stop_ thinking it, least of all when Sirius' hand began to circle on Remus' back—hoping to bring him comfort.

* * *

**oOo**


	14. Spring

**Spring**

* * *

Remus knocked on the wooden door, and he felt immediately connected to the house he was stood before. Clutching his briefcase in hand, he hoped he looked as presentable as he had tried to be. Before he was even greeted by Augusta Longbottom, Remus was adamant this was the house he wanted to be in, and the child inside of it was one he felt compelled to help. He couldn't directly explain it, but he felt attached. He hadn't even had the chance to place eyes on the inhabitants yet.

A lot had changed for Remus when he buried his last parent, and while everyone had rallied around him, attempting to hold him up, he just wanted to crawl beneath the sheets and mourn for as long as life would allow him too. He went from fits of anger to bouts of tears, and every step of the way, Sirius was there. He could have walked, Sirius could have thrown in the towel and said this was all too much, but he never did.

Sirius didn't complain once.

It almost made Remus feel guilty, especially when the bad news kept on coming. His health had taken a dive, and he wasn't even fit enough to argue that he was fine. Blood test after blood test, scan after consultation was the only times Remus left his bed. And still, Sirius remained by his side, reminding him how much he loved him, and _how he wouldn't be going anywhere._

After the dust had settled from his father's funeral, the council requested Remus make a decision on what he was to do with the house. He agonised, writing list after list of the positives and negatives of keeping it, until Sirius hovered at the doorway, eating an apple and sporting a smile.

"Do you _want_ to live there?"

It had been an easy answer when someone else had asked it, but Remus still dipped his head and sighed as he whispered, "No."

The truth was, if Remus moved there with Sirius, the past would haunt him. The memories of his parents nursing him or Remus nursing his mother. But if he was to sell, he wasn't sure he could handle knowing someone else lived there. It twisted his insides when he thought of someone else in his bedroom, and Remus found tears burnt his eyes when he imagined living there with Sirius.

"I should sell it, _shouldn't_ I?"

Sirius shrugged, slowly walking to him before sitting on the end of the bed. "I can't tell you what to do, this is your decision to make. I have...zero votes on the matter. I'm _just_ your boyfriend."

It wasn't meant to have stung, Remus knew that, but it did all the same. He opened his mouth, quick to reply that Sirius wasn't just anything, but he didn't want to fight and he didn't want to find himself having the same discussion with the man he needed to be his rock. So he remained silent.

A month later, Remus was stood in the place he had called home for so long, packing up the items that made the place feel familiar, when he had an epiphany. He didn't _need_ a _degree_ to help a child; he could be a carer, or a tutor, a _friend._ His father had hired tutors, and they had been mere college students looking to earn some extra money. Remus could tutor in anything, and he could learn to be a carer as he did.

For the first time in months, Remus felt liberated, excited almost. He was set to explode with ideas and happiness when he looked through the house to find Sirius, only for him to be holding a shoebox with a smile.

"What is that?"

Sirius shrugged, a playful and mischievous smile on his face. "You'll see."

It had turned out that his father had shared a similar thought. He'd put together a pack of information for Remus, to give to him when he was next seeing him. Sirius had found it all in the coffee table with post-its all over it the papers.

Some of the handwriting he recognised as Fenrir's, and Remus smiled at how his nurse- _turned-friend_ had such a big heart. Occasional pieces were Sirius, and Remus assumed the CV scrunched up in between the leaflets on caring for children and the ' _Importance of a Police Check_ ' information sheet had also been done by Sirius. The rest of the writing was his father's, scrawlings of numbers and addresses all set out for Remus.

All set to be given to him the next time they met.

He spent hours looking over them, the sun fading for the night and Sirius even flicking on the floor lamp as Remus did. Not one piece of paper wasn't looked at thrice, and by the time he retired to bed, Remus had formed a plan—one Sirius was eager to hear, in the morning.

The first person Remus had decided to call the following morning reaffirmed his decision, and Remus—after several panic attacks and almost wearing the carpet down from pacing the living room—called Augusta Longbottom.

The short taxi ride to Augusta Longbottom was one filled with dread. Remus' stomach knotted and unknotted, a sick sensation appearing and vanishing from his stomach the entire journey. He didn't know if he could do this. Could he care for someone else, especially when most of the time he didn't look after himself all that well? The only peace of mind was that Remus had chosen to do this. It had been _his_ choice, yet also something everyone in his life had thought would be a good fit. The other blessing was that Remus decided _not_ to get on the bus. If he had, he knew germs and old people would be another worry on top of his already spiralling mind.

Ms Longbottom was exactly what Remus had expected; a strong, sprite grandmother who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders with such strength, and no one questioned whether she should be. He had read up on the terrible accident that had caused her son and daughter to pass away, and left Augusta's grandson with multiple disabilities—most of them meaning he couldn't enjoy school like he should.

Like Remus hadn't.

He was handed a cup of tea before he had a chance to register, and Remus was forced to quickly attempt to hide his horror at the Queen's face appearing at the bottom of the China cup as he drained it. Augusta was busy discussing Neville's temperament: shy, awkward and nervous. Remus wondered to himself if his father had ever described him in a similar way to others upon meeting them.

"He likes books, but won't read aloud," Augusta said sharply—as though it was normal of children to read out loud. "He also likes plants."

Remus nodded politely, not knowing _what_ was expected of him with a statement like that, especially as the growing of life wasn't the weirdest hobby for someone to have. As she proceeded to explain what Neville found interesting, he realised quickly that it wasn't that Neville's grandmother found his hobby weird, but rather she didn't connect to him—he was nothing like the son she had raised, and Remus suspected it made her nervous.

Eventually, after more tea, Remus found himself being led to Neville's room, which was honestly rather bland, although large. Except for a few plants on shelves and a hanging basket near his window, the only decoration on the walls were cut-outs of plants, and Remus tried to hide his surprise at the lack of colour. It didn't remind him of a child's room, and immediately Remus felt his chest ache for the thirteen-year-old sat in the bed, looking as uncomfortable as Remus was sure he'd feel.

"I'll leave you two alone, Neville, this is Profess—"

"Remus. Just call me Remus, please," he said, speaking to Neville. "But, hi," his hand stuck out as he nervously stepped closer, "I'll be your English, and I guess other academic subjects, tutor. I'm not a professor, I'm not... _trained,_ so to speak."

Neville stared up at him with wide-eyes, his lips slowly parting as he opened his mouth into an 'O' shape as he shook Remus' hand limply. Augusta chose that moment to shoot the door—loudly—making both men flinch, and cause Remus to jump away from the boy.

"Sorry."

Neville shrugged. "Why do you want to teach me? I'm...dumb, and I don't always understand things."

Remus shook his head, dropping his briefcase to the floor. "You aren't dumb. The people who have failed to teach you correctly, they are the ones who have failed you, not the other way around." He pointed to an armchair, clean, but with a small layer of dust on the cushion. "May I?"

Neville nodded, beginning to wring his hands, and Remus bit the inside of his mouth, recognising that move instantly.

"I want you to be comfortable with me, so if I'm doing something you don't like—"

"Your satchel," Neville interrupted, "can you move it next to you, it's in the middle of my room."

Remus smiled, nodding as he dragged it beside him, hiding it from sight behind the chair he had moved from the wall. "Your grandmother, she said that you're paralysed from the waist down?"

Neville nodded. "Spinal Cord Injury. My mum's wooden stand went into my back when we crashed." Sliding his hands over his knees, Remus noticed Neville's eyes follow him. "I have anxiety, OCD and—"

"Those aren't caused by the accident," Remus said, softly and gently.

A calm silence fell between them, and Remus was afraid of breaking it. He didn't want to shatter the moment, he didn't want to alarm a boy who had suffered through so much already, so he remained sitting, with his spine straight, darting his eyes around the room.

"I'm not a... _normal_ boy, am I?"

Remus shrugged lightly before painting a comforting expression on his face. "I'm hardly one to judge, Neville. I used to collect thimbles."

He watched as Neville frowned before a small smile began to blossom over his lips.

"Thimbles were breakable you see, like me. They were small, and they often didn't fit in with rooms."

Remus placed his hands on his knees, spreading his fingers out as he levelled his breathing. His mind flurried with memories of his parents, some still too raw to dwell on.

Each time he saw his parent's faces, especially his father's, a knife stabbed into his chest, and instead of simply piercing him, it twisted and _twisted_ until Remus couldn't breathe.

"I think that's why I liked them," Remus continued, a noticeable tremble in his voice. "They, like me, didn't fit in. I used to collect them from seaside holidays—well, the occasional ones I went on."

Neville twitched his nose, and Remus offered him a nod, sensing a question was bubbling. "Do you still have them?"

"No." Remus dipped his eyes, biting the inside of his lip as he felt the tiny thimble in his jacket pocket become heavier. "I have one though, my first one. My father bought it for me. It had an R on it—it's _..._ sorta chipped away now, but I know it was there—and I found it, only recently. I thought they were all binned when we moved."

Neville nodded, avoiding meeting Remus' eyes and Remus wondered if he could sense the heightened emotions in the room. It was the most Remus had shared since the funeral, the rather quiet affair breezing past without much disruption or fuss.

"There are other people who deserve your time, Mr Remus."

He didn't know why, but the sentence hurt Remus far more than he expected. His body chilled as he met the sincere glow in the boy's eyes, and Remus hated how Neville _truly_ believed that he didn't deserve his time.

"You aren't...broken, Neville. They're things that happen, and we have to find ways of moving _with_ them, and not letting them hold us back." Remus paused, taking a deep sigh as his words washed over them both. "I'm not here to tell you that you will be fine because there are some things that leave scars no human eye can see."

Neville swallowed. "Like watching your parents die."

Remus's heart sunk as he shuffled uncomfortably in the chair. "Like watching your parents die."

"Why do you want to help me, Professor Lupin?"

It had been a question Remus had asked himself since he saw the newspaper, and he had known the answer even as he picked up his mobile and typed the number, hovering over the call button.

"Well, for one call me Remus. I am not old enough to be a professor...yet," Remus said with a grin that he found was mirrored quickly by Neville. " _Sometimes_ we need a friend to walk with us, and sometimes we need someone to explain algebra. But sometimes, Neville, we need to not feel broken ourselves, and helping someone else can heal us too."

If it wasn't for the bright smile that shone over Neville's face, Remus would have assumed his answer had fallen on deaf ears—especially in the silence that followed. It lasted far longer than Remus' anxiety could handle, but when Neville cleared his throat, it felt like a rainbow appeared through the dark clouds that had been Remus' life.

"What are you trying to heal?"

Remus blushed. "You aren't the only one with an incurable disease, so, for once, you aren't alone, Neville. We can be two peas in a pod."

A light laugh left Neville's mouth, one that sounded like utter childlike joy. "I'm growing peas."

"Well you've just become my _favourite_ person," Remus added, and the look on Neville's face made his entire day.

When he left the Longbottoms', set to return the next morning, Remus smiled as he walked to the bus stop, thanking fate just a little bit, for dropping Neville into his life.

* * *

A crisis meeting—that was the name Sirius gave to the summoning of James Potter. He could have told him that he had pizza and a film, but Sirius knew this would get James' body—more than likely—off Lily and round at his house, needing James to unpick his life.

He had prepared all the necessary items; he had chosen beer because it made James less gassy, which Lily also appreciated. A takeaway had been ordered, which should arrive just after Sirius' revelation, and his problems should be tackled within an hour or two—depending on how much beer they drank. Sirius hoped for the former, not wishing to get too deep and emotional with James—not so close to his wedding anyway.

James, like the brilliant best friend and adopted brother he was, was around quicker than time-travel. He was also out of breath, which Sirius suspected meant he ran here—which he both hated and was impressed by.

"You alright?" James panted, seating himself at the breakfast bar, one hand extended as he tried to breathe through whatever attack his body was having. "Where's Remus?"

Sirius moved to the fridge, opening the door and proudly showcasing the full shelf of beer. "With the Bottom kid, teaching him about triangles and metres and shit." Uncapping one beer, Sirius stood in the space of the open fridge before downing the entire bottle. "I went with Remus a few months ago to see his consultant. And the doc called me today."

Taking a deep breath, James closed his eyes. "Well, _fuck_. I wish I had told Lily I'd be out all evening, poor woman will be worried sick about me."

Glaring, Sirius pulled out two beers, making sure he didn't take his eyes off James for a second. Uncapping each one, throwing the lids towards the sink, Sirius slammed James' down, smirking as the fizz came up. "Prick," Sirius taunted, watching James plug his mouth around it, catching all the froth. "He needs a new kidney."

James—who still wasn't used to Sirius, not sugar-coating things—spat the contents of his mouth all over Sirius and the breakfast bar. " _Excuse_ me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, brushing the liquid from his t-shirt, trying to look excessively more disgusted than he was. "He needs to get a new kidney or he will die. Dead. Vanish. End up in the ground."

James groaned. "Let me guess, you're going to go get tested?"

"I already did."

"You... _what the hell,_ man? These are things you discuss with your brother before going off and just willingly give a boyfriend a kidney."

He wanted to correct James, but he understood his point. Well, everything apart from the boyfriend part because Remus was so much more than that particular label. He was a man who meant a great deal to him, a future, a chance of happiness wrapped in a person; he was someone who changed Sirius for the better, in more ways than just words and songs could describe.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius tried to keep calm. "I am not giving him a kidney—"

"Then why did you get tested? Hm? Don't you lie to me, Sirius _Orion_ Black-Potter. I know you, I know you better than you know yourself and I will not stand here, and allow you to give another man an organ—wait, that sounds, ew, I mean that organ can totally—"

"I'm not a match," Sirius said, clenching his fist as he tapped it against the counter, silencing James. "They even rested his dad's before they...gave him to be buried. It takes ages, the tests and shit. I got the results back, and I've had to pretend I haven't all day. And! Even though I want to, I cannot give him a kidney. Even if I desperately want to save the man that I love—"

"—Who will not want you to possibly harm yourself—"

"—I cannot save him. Prongs, you should have seen him. He is getting weaker, iller. You told me that when you love someone, you do anything for them," Sirius argued, his hands tugging through his hair. "He told me he loved me more than anything, that he wanted a future, and right now there is so much more in the air than this... _than his illness_ , and I felt it. We are getting along and it feels like time is slipping away and…I can't lose him. I can't. I refuse."

James shook his head, rubbing the back of his head. " _Fuck_."

"Well no it didn't feel like that was in the air," Sirius snarled.

Snorting, James began to smirk as he pulled out a chair from the dining table and seated himself. "No, the _fuck_ was in reference to the fact that you both love each other so much that you'd even...well you aren't even being selfish and he isn't being a cagey prick, so you must love one another. I mean for Christ almighty's sake, you're willing to contemplate giving a man your organ."

Sirius shook his head, scrunching his face up. " _Please_ , stop saying organ—"

"—and while Remus continues to try and hide his illness behind Miranda Priestly-esque shades— _and if you ask me how I know her name, I will skin you alive_ —then that means he feels the same," James sighed with a smile. "He loves you. So much so he's going around pretending he's not ill so you have a normal life. Like fuck, you pair are fuckin' idiots for one another."

Sirius tried to force a frown, attempting to hide the embarrassment and excitement that bubbled under his skin. Because he didn't want to get carried away—he didn't want to lose his cool and possibly act idiotically in front of James, especially when he had teased him so much when it came to Lily. "Possibly."

James shook his head. "Oh, Padfoot, my _delusionally-in-love_ friend, you need to watch more romantic comedies."

"You need to stop watching so many. They're making you romantic and gushy," Sirius taunted.

"Possibly, but I like to think they add a new dimension to my persona."

Sirius laughed heartily. "They don't."

A comfortable silence passed, James in deep thought with a worrying expression that made Sirius want to pull out his phone and take a photo for Lily. James thinking was a sight that was rarely seen—even when the two of them had been at school together.

"You think you could look over my speech," James suddenly said, his palms rubbing together nervously. "I...It's obviously fantastic, as am I, but—"

"I'd love too," Sirius replied. "Plus, I'm the more fantastic one anyways, be good for you to let me add my touch to it."

 _Arse_ was all that James said in response.

* * *

Remus lied.

And Remus hated lying.

He always had. Ever since he was little and he tried to deny playing in his mother's flower beds—even if he was covered in soil. Or the time his father had caught him reading Dorian Gray, after he had taken the cover from his bible and placed it over the top.

Being a liar made his stomach knot and his throat itch. Remus always knew his lies would be found out, especially since his face always gave him up.

It hadn't stopped him as he had left the house that morning, his pack-up in hand—that had been immediately binned at the bus shelter—as he quickly clicked Lily's name and called her.

Remus needed a girl, and weirdly he also wanted to see Pete, who in Remus' opinion, was a small cheerleader who would boost morale. Remus knew everyone needed a cheerleader sometimes.

When Lily suggested a cafe, Remus had panicked. He hadn't known if it was the impulsive, but nagging thoughts he had been having or if it was the fact he was going somewhere he had never been. Or even both. He had opened the door, being washed in coffee bean scent and dark lighting, and something soothed him as he met the grinning expression of those he had called.

Remus wasn't going to waste time, slipping down into the seat opposite them as he placed his shaking palms on the table in front of them.

"I want to propose to Sirius."

Pete and Lily's mouth blossomed into a grin that Remus could never have predicted. It was beautiful, and it made his heart soar, and the decision he had made seem even more cemented.

"You-you—" Lily stammered.

"This is _fucking_ awesome-balls!" Pete yelled, suddenly flooring Remus with a hug as Remus braced from his head to his toes. "Yeah! My friends are all settling down."

Remus didn't want to quite say he wasn't settling down, since he was already settled down, but Pete seemed harmless—sweet, gentle.

"I know before I wasn't sure, but I'm being faced with the possibility of death by kidney failure, and whatever life I have, I want to live. And I want to live it with him. So, I need your help. Both of you."

Lily turned, looking straight at Pete—who in Remus' opinion looked set to burst into fireworks from so much excitement. "Oh hell yes!"

* * *

**oOo**


	15. Summer

**Summer**

* * *

The wedding was beyond words.

It was beautiful, and entirely outdoors; uniquely dressed in green and white. The sun had decided to bless them, shining down on them through the trees all week with no signs of vanishing. The marquee that stood in the corner with fairy lights dangling down had copious amounts of laughter leaving it, joyous family and friends inside, beaming and grinning.

He didn't know how he got here, dressed in a suit that _actually_ fit, with his hair styled but still curly. He was nervous and it darted through his body, adding an anxious layer to the many other emotions Remus was carting around.

Remus was _here_ , at a wedding for two people who loved one another so much, it didn't frighten them to do it.

All morning, as he tried and tried to do up his tie, Remus had stared at the reflection, knowing that when he saw himself later on in his bathroom, he'd be a different kind of man. An engaged man, _hopefully._ With the occasional mumbling of Harry Styles' _Sign of the Times_ —a recent guilty pleasure of his—along with the radio, Remus tried his best to remain calm. He pressed his hands down his shirt, feeling the beginnings of beaded sweat on his palms before quickly pulling them from his chest, his heart running a mile a minute. 

That was several hours ago. In that time, Remus had placed the wedding card in the postbox, he had signed the guestbook and had met up with Pete who looked just as nervous as Remus expected James to be. The two of them stuck to the outer edges of the guests, both of them trying to spot Mia and Morty, James' parents, before noticing that neither of Lily's had turned up. 

"She had been worried they wouldn't," Pete muttered. "Morty is going to walk her down the aisle, Sirius had asked him a few days ago."

Remus nodded as he trailed his eyes across the room once more, this time catching a pair he hadn't expected to see. There, just arriving in the reception tent was Marlene, and her hand happened to be solely within Dorcas'— _the woman from menswear._ Remus made a mental note to tell Sirius later that not only had she ensured she returned for the wedding—and come in a rather beautiful blue dress—but she hadn't come _alone_. Sirius had been so worried that she would miss it, after missing so many other huge moments, that Remus had nearly slipped a _Kalm's_ into his glass of milk the night before. 

Noone had to wait long before Lily had blessed the garden, the trees sighing at the sight of her as the flowers bloomed larger at her presence. James had stood with a grin on his face under the arch of white flowers, and Sirius stood beside him, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Remus could admit, only to Sirius, that he'd shed a tear as Sirius handed James the rings, a proud brotherly smile on his face before he met Remus' eyes across the room and winked at him. He let down the walls when the couple said their vows, and while Remus wasn't _as close_ with the pair as he'd have liked, he felt so happy to be sat front row at their wedding, with Pete beside him turning into a blubbering mess.

Lily headed to them before anyone else, floating down similarly to an angel who looked close to a goddess. She had described her dress as simple, but the only words Remus could think of was beautiful—and he was no expert. Baby's-breathe had been woven through her fiery locks, and Remus knew what hands had done that as he looked over her shoulder and met his grinning boyfriend.

James ran over not long after, his white suit and black tie catching the sun as he flung his arms around Pete, " _I'm married, man, I'm married."_

The crisp white of the two of them stood out against James tanned skin and Lily's red hair, and Remus couldn't think of anything more suited to the pair. They were picture perfect, both together and individually. Remus watched as they stared at one another like their entire lives were complete against meeting one another, and Remus knew, deep down in his chest, he felt the same way about Sirius, especially when he chose to let his eyes wander, and they instantly met the silver ones hoping to catch his.

Being an attendee at a perfect couple's wedding was exactly what Remus needed to shake the last nerves he had running around his body. As the crowd cheered and the couple kissed, Remus brought his hands together. The box in his jacket dug into his chest.

* * *

Sirius was not a crier, and yet he sobbed like a child who'd had his sweets taken off him. He tried to do it behind the arch, but he knew he had been caught when a large flash made him jump.

Emotions were not Sirius' friend, and the array of them coursing through him now set him off balance. He had no idea how to process them, since he'd never been allowed to try as a that he was simultaneously happy and sad, he had zero idea on what the fuck to do. The moment James' mouth had released Lily's, he had forced his way between the pair and hugged them for dear life. Lily, his new sister, and James, the brother who had _always_ been there and might not be so much now.

"Are we still in a church?"

"Sirius, we're outside," Lily laughed, rubbing her thumb over his cheek to rid the mascara stain she had put there. "Just trees and love."

Narrowing his eyes, Sirius shook his head teasingly. "I _mean,_ are we still like God'd and shit?"

James snorted. "Why?"

"Be- _cause_ I'm so _fucking_ happy and I didn't wanna swear in front of big G. _Obviously,"_ Sirius said, turning his head to get his angle as people began to take photos. "Guys, they want photos of us."

He felt an elbow—suspiciously James shaped—dig into his ribs.

"Photos of _us,_ " James hissed through gritted teeth, a large smile on his face.

Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, Lils, piss off and let us have our moment."

The second elbow Sirius felt seemed suspiciously like Lily's, but he paid it no mind as he gripped onto James' waist and grinned at the photographer. He didn't _really_ want to take up James' time, but he needed him for a moment, an extra second of them alone, just the two of them.

Even as he forced a grin on his face, Sirius felt anything but happy on the inside. He didn't want to lose James. Even though he knew that James marrying Lily didn't mean that, he couldn't stop the thought from running around his head, leaving footprints over good memories and joyful times. Sirius didn't want this to be the start of change, not when he had experienced so much recently with Remus.

"Y'know, you're a shit faker."

Sirius snorted to himself, adjusting his suit jacket with emphasis. " _I_ am awesome at everything I do, Prongs. Do not get it twisted."

James turned to face him, raising one brow—the signature, _let's be real,_ expression. "I call bullshit. So, spit it out or I'll ply you with alcohol."

"I'm your wedding singer."

James folded his arms. "If having music is what I lose, then so be it, but you're talking."

He felt his heart in his throat, and though the thoughts became more annoying in his mind, Sirius knew speaking them would sound silly. Because he knew they were.

"I'm scared of losing you."

James didn't laugh—surprisingly—and James didn't ridicule him, instead his face softened. "You are my brother. I chose you. I mean, c'mon Pads, I see you more than I see Lily on a good week." His hand slapped Sirius' shoulder, and the confusion inside of him evaporated at the touch. "You and me, we are family. Blood. You're a Potter, and Potters' don't Pot without Ters."

Sirius slowly smirked, feeling it fill his cheeks. "You're an idiot."

"I'm _your_ idiot," he corrected, "always."

Sirius flung his arms around him: emotions or not, he needed to be held, just for a minute, by his family.

James slowly patted his back, and Sirius didn't even care if his brother was pulling expressions to everyone else, he was just happy to be here, in this hold.

"I have something to tell you."

Sirius arched his brow. "You're leaving Lily because you realise you love Pete, I knew it."

James' fist met Sirius' arm before he could dodge it, and while he would usually stifle the cry, he found himself unable too.

"No, you dickhead." James reached into his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper before handing it to him. "You're welcome."

Staring suspiciously for a second, James winked cockily as Sirius slowly unfolded it. "If this is an A4 picture of your junk, I will punch—" But his eyes met the page, a rush of emotions poured over him, and Sirius found himself, for the first time, in a long time, completely at a loss. "Prongs...What did you…"

James shrugged, re-adjusting his tie and jacket with a proud smirk. "I'm saving _love_ , stupid. Now, fuck off so I can have my bride back. Fuck, that was weird. Bride, huh. B-r-i-d-e."

Sirius only continued to stare, not moving, and his mouth opened in shock.

"I love you too, and it is no problem. I am honoured to be giving your man, my organ," James continued to tease, and Sirius didn't even care, not even a fraction.

Instead, he flung his arms around him for the second time, breathlessly and emotionally whispered a thank you that was definitely—one hundred percent—laced with tears.

* * *

The food was exquisite. So much so that Pete was in a food coma with bread still in his hand at the table. Remus found himself with little appetite, especially as the day drew on and he knew, soon enough, Sirius would stand up on the stage, and soon enough Sirius would be all his again.

Nerves chewed his stomach, and as he sipped the water in his hand, he tried not to think about anything—feelings, questions. He tried to be in the moment, something he never was. Their story was just beginning; he felt that as it _always_ ran through him whenever Sirius was near, and while their road had been rocky, it wasn't over. It was what Remus tried to remind himself when his hands began to shake and his throat began to burn. He'd get a kidney, he'd have his happy ending—even if it was different to the one he had expected.

Remus held the glass in his hand a little firmer as Sirius moved across the stage. The stars beginning to appear as the sky turned a darker blue, and the air began to cool after the sunny day they had all experienced. Remus, even in the breeze, began to feel the droplets of condensation move down his wrist from nerves. Not just for himself and what was to come, but for Sirius. His eyes were fixed on him as he crossed the stage, the picture of confidence, as Sirius clutched the dark brown acoustic guitar he had first seen in Sirius' home, and later in the video on the internet.

It seemed so long ago, decades even, but he knew it had just been over a year. Sirius felt like he had always been a part of Remus, stitched into him when he was made, always there in a way Remus had never seen, and that's when his eyes drifted to the sunlit sky, the dashes of soft pink hanging there, reminding everyone night was coming.

Sirius _had_ always been there. He was the brightest thing of all.

"Hello, _um_ , testing? Is that what I say?" Sirius charismatically grinned, the room chuckling as he adjusted the microphone. "I'd like to, um, alright I'm gonna try and not be a dick, but if you find I am, remember I can't help it, it comes naturally to me, alright? Good."

Remus bit back a smirk, watching Sirius flick his hair behind his shoulder, finding the laughter around the greenery contagious. He hadn't changed, not really, not even after all they had done to one another—and Remus was glad _;_ if he had ruined him, the best thing he knew, he would never be able to live with himself. Sirius cleared his throat again, and began to adjust the microphone, grinning as his silvery bright eyes swept over the crowd, hovering his eyes straight over Remus, and it was undeniable how cool his insides felt as they did. So many words were spoken without a sound, and Remus felt his chest grow three sizes from it all.

"This song is _so_ special to me. I wanted to sing one of my own, but this...well, it sums everything up," Sirius began, and his hands gripped the guitar. "I'm utterly grateful to the bride for allowing me to take over her first dance, forcing her to listen to my voice on her special day—just like she does _every day._ "

From the corner of his eye, Remus saw a flash of red move through the tables, James following behind. They smiled at passing friends, and Remus nodded as James caught his attention.

He didn't want to move closer, but found himself being pushed that way, the people behind him urging Remus to stand on the edge of the dancefloor. He was centre stage, a focus for Sirius and a chance for many eyes to focus on him, but Remus focused his attention instead on the couple before him, nearly losing his breath at how perfect his friends looked. The two of them stood, eyes on one another and only each other, happiness beaming out of them.

Sirius strummed the guitar, the soft sound echoing around them, bringing them all together before silence once more.

Remus loved Sirius.

He loved the way his hands strummed the guitar with confidence, and he loved the way those same hands held him with confidence.

Remus tried to swallow the words in his throat, he _I love you so much_ and the many other things he was bursting to say—especially as he took Sirius in. His tie had gone, and his jacket and waistcoat, and Sirius stood on the stage with his top button on his shirt undone and sleeves rolled, looking every bit a rockstar. Remus had never felt luckier.

"Without further ado, _as they say."_

And the strumming of the guitar took over, this time without stopping. Remus' throat tightening as he watched Sirius grin in a way that was just for him—or it felt as such, even if it should have been for James and Lily.

Sirius' foot began to tap, the tune suddenly coming to him, and Remus watched as his eyes closed and Sirius fell deep into the music, twisting in with the notes as he began to become one with the song.

" _I want to marry you,"_ Remus thought, feeling his cheeks burn as he realised Sirius had opened his eyes half-lidded and was staring directly at him, not James and Lily who were circling one another.

He wanted his attention. He wanted all of Remus' attention.

" _Kiss me… beside the green, grass, swing swing, swing,"_ Sirius sang, his voice so soft, so beautiful—it made Remus go hot under his shirt, his hand suddenly heating the water in his hand, causing his heart to hammer in adoration rather than nerves. "Kiss me, _down by the broken tree house…_ "

Catching James spinning Lily, a smirk on her face as she purposefully met Remus eyes, and he froze, looking from her to Sirius, just as he winked: " _So kiss me."_

Remus stepped closer, moving beside the last table around the dancefloor. He awkwardly placed the glass down as the guitar solo came in, stepping closer so he was almost on the dance floor, not noticing or caring for the dancing couple or the eyes that had fell to him. This was it, this was the moment. He knew it, it bubbles in his chest and called out to him.

All Remus saw was Sirius, the weight of their errors and the guilt Remus felt crushing him. He felt the Constance of their love and he felt all the times Sirius had been there even when Remus had pushed him away. He wanted to say he was sorry for being an arse, and he wanted to scream that it was _as easy_ as saying yes and it was as simple as kissing him—and that Remus loved him, and love was enough.

James and Lily parted for him, Remus' feet taking him towards Sirius without thought. He could see the nerves on Sirius' forehead, the tiny beads of sweat on his brow, and Remus wanted to wipe them away before telling him he was perfect, and he sang perfectly.

Remus' whole body yearned for the man with the guitar, just as it had since day one. He had known that always, and yet stupidly, it had taken until now for Remus to accept it. They were destiny, they were the future—and Remus was sick of trying to understand love, especially when love simply was just love.

" _So kiss me,"_ Sirius sang, staring down at him—the entire room watching the two of them.

Remus stepped up on the stage, just before the microphone and the man singing into it.

" _So kiss me_ …"

And Remus did.

Moving the microphone, his palm meeting the bearded cheek he had always loved so much, Remus pressed his lips to Sirius', and he _fucking_ kissed him. He kissed him as though tomorrow would never be. Remus kissed him as though it could heal all their issues, because deep down he knew it could.

Remus pressed every emotion, every scared and brilliant thought into that kiss.

Remus kissed him.

* * *

Sirius was shocked to the core, his heart physically stopping in his chest as he felt the warmth of Remus' lips on his. He gripped the guitar awkwardly between them, his fingers bent crookedly from strumming but his mouth moved with Remus' like it always did.

Because he was made for him, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the penny had finally dropped for Remus. Turning his cheek, Sirius stopped himself from kissing Remus into oblivion, sensing the many phones snapping pictures of them.

"C'mon, Romeo," he teased, removing his guitar and handing it to a rather excitable Lily. "Suspicious, Mrs Potter."

"Go, you idiotic pair," she hissed, nodding her head toward the trees.

Sirius knew the place; he had seen it on his first visit here when Remus had left for Hogwarts. He had stood on the rickety old bridge and thought of bringing Remus here, the two of them throwing sticks off the side and watching them race like they did in Winnie the Pooh.

He led the two of them through the small crowd of family members who stood at the outer edge, and even if Sirius felt no regrets, he hid his face from The Potters.

He knew the place, but not how to find it. Sirius could see it visually in his mind, and he begged for the world to take him there. Life seemed to answer, and as the sun finally vanished for the night, Sirius took one last look at the moon with a smile before he noticed how dressed the bridge was.

Tiny candles in glass boxes littered the walkway, flashing small light over the running water underneath. The trees surrounding it had lights, not as bright as the ones at the wedding, but light enough Sirius could see all of Remus, and Remus could see all of him.

Sirius knew Remus had been battling every thought, wanting to be in the moment and not be in his head for the first time in a long time, and he knew how much he would struggle. He hadn't expected _that kiss_ , and he hadn't expected the fiery look in Remus' eyes now they were alone.

Pulling his eyes from his, Sirius looked down and laughed to himself at the fact that two beers had been left untouched on the bridge. He remembered Lily's smile, how she had picked the song with a twinkle in her eye, and some things began to slot together. Picking them up, Sirius handed Remus one silently, knowing whatever they were about to discuss, a beer would help.

Remus seemed pleased to have something to fidget with the label as the silence between them began to make Remus feel uncomfortable as he began to pick at the label. Sirius loved that about him, that his body language said so much, and he was so afraid of showing it.

"You know, when I was a child," Remus began, peeling and picking at the label of the beer in his hand. His eyes moving from the side—where Sirius suspected was dripping condensation—back to Sirius' eyes. "At night, I would stare out of windows, usually a hospital window, cars…anything, just to see the man in the moon. I'd beg him to save me, to release me from the pain, of the weakness I felt. I'd beg him to make me _normal._ "

Sirius swallowed loudly, uncomfortably as he ran his hands down his shirt, wishing he had brought his jacket as the crisp air blew through the open trees. Remus had a small smile pulling over his lips, one Sirius found himself unable to not mirror.

"I realise that I was staring at the wrong thing all that time. The moon wouldn't save me, it betrayed me; it spread light over the darkness of the night, showing only what it could—making shadow monsters appear in safe rooms and make nightmares feel real."

Sirius uncapped his own beer, the small hiss coming from it sounding louder in the thick silence. Remus captured Sirius' eyes, shimmering emeralds in the candlelit darkness, only the flames casting soft shadows over his face, dancing in the wind of the night.

He licked his lips, and Remus' eyes temporarily moved down to them before returning to meet his stare. "What should you have been staring at?"

Remus smiled. "I should have been staring at something far brighter, far more prominent," Remus whispered and Sirius needed him to get to the point, fearful his heart would give in from its apprehension and worry. "I should have been staring at the stars. _A star_ in particular, the brightest one; the one that would save me more times than it ever expected."

Sirius felt his chest puff, but his breath was stolen. His cheeks flushed with warmth, as the coil in his stomach snapped; whatever lock that had been on his feelings suddenly set free everything he had been hiding from in the last year. The fear of losing him, the fear of Remus wanting to run away again, the fear that Remus wouldn't want him. Sirius' felt his body yearning for Remus. The two of them had remained feet apart, both waiting for the other to move, even though they both knew they were both too stubborn.

"I made a mistake with you, Sirius. I made a mistake the moment I left for Scotland and never really thought about what I wanted. I made a mistake the day you got yourself arrested. But most of all, I made a mistake in never being honest, and being afraid."

"Empty words when they're not supported by evidence or actions, _Professor,"_ Sirius taunted. "English 101, that."

Remus dipped his head as he bit back a laugh. "I suppose you're right."

For the first time in a handful of gestures, Sirius lost his confidence as he watched Remus fill the space between them. His hand gently met Sirius' cheek, as the other gripped his hip, keeping them together and their eyes danced to a different song—one they had never moved to or heard.

"You know, Moony. It's never good practice to put so much faith in the moon or the man that lives in it," Sirius replied, enjoying Remus' thumb stroking his cheek.

"Whose faith should I depend on, then?" Remus asked.

Sirius swallowed back everything else, staring into his eyes more openly and freely than he ever had. "The one that never fails. The brightest star remains the brightest because it leads those who wander home."

"Not everyone who wanders is lost, Sirius."

Sirius chuckled, seemingly agreeing. "Not everyone who is lost needs to be found either, but here you are, and here I am. You've found me, time and time again. Plus, the man in the moon was never for you, he wasn't meant to lead _you_ home."

Remus' eyes widened, and Sirius didn't miss the water building in the corners. "I was lost, Sirius. Even when I was with you, even when we fought and even when we met. But you… you—"

"You're found now, Remus. I promise you," Sirius whispered, speaking nothing but the truth openly, and without care for pain or consequence, for the first time since he met Remus. "I have never lied to you, and I was always going to lead you home."

"And I was always there to save you," Remus admitted as Sirius nodded. "You were right in making distance your bitch, and you were right that you'd make music and own a motorcycle. But me, I always thought it was you who was lost, when really it was me. And now I realise how fucking foolish I have been because everything I wanted, you had suggested. And all I ever did was panic."

Sirius smirked lightly. "Love makes us all foolish, or so Prongs tells me. It terrifies me, everything you come with, all the things that beat inside of me when I think about you. I'm broken, Remus. I'm not manufactured to make you haikus or even egg-toast bread correctly. But, all the same, I have always loved you. From the moment we met, in case you wondered."

A flash of light passed in Remus' eyes, and it made Sirius' heart soar. It was beautiful, like a shooting star—an enigma, unusual and brilliant. Sirius had never been one to speak first on matters of the heart, but it felt like the perfect time for it to happen. He had Remus, here and now, and Sirius did not want to waste a chance like this. Who knew the pain that would be inflicted if he didn't? Sirius didn't want to hazard a guess, especially when Sirius appreciated him even more than he had done when they first dated; he adored the little things as well as the tediously annoying things. Sirius would miss it all if he were to let Remus go, and he knew he'd never do that, not again, not for another second.

He wouldn't allow another moment to be tainted with sorrow, he wanted to make a moment that would replace the one on the windowsill—the one that forever remained tattooed on his heart.

And here one was. Neatly presented in a suit and tie, with cute brown suspenders and curly hair that Sirius wanted to run his hand through. The two of them, _suited and booted_ in a gloriously expensive place where drinks were free and merriment was plenty. He moved his body close to Remus, their bodies flush and the soft hum of music from a place far away keeping the silence at bay.

"Do I made you happy like I did before, Remus?" Sirius asked, his voice cracking in fear because he knew, deep down, that was what was between them. "Because you haven't seemed—"

The corners of Remus' lips curled. "No," he whispered, and Sirius felt an array of emotions hit him like a bus, knocking the wind from him. " _Before_ implies I stopped. I never stopped, Sirius. I can never _stop_ being happy around you." Sirius simply stared, not wanting to say anything to ruin or break the moment—knowing he had a habit of doing it. "I love you, Sirius. And while I don't regret not looking at all of this sooner, and realising what I wanted, because the journey has made this special—I regret being a _twat_ and taking so long to get back to you."

Sirius smiled, truthfully and without thought. "You know you're always forgiven," he replied, closing the gap between their mouths before he felt Remus' hand push on his chest, and Sirius frowned.

"You asked me once if I wanted to get married and, somehow, have a child with you?"

Sirius' confidence fell, a sickening sensation swirled in his stomach, because he had no idea how this was going to go—he wasn't prepared for this. He had been prepared for an apology—or even himself giving an apology—but not this, not discussing something they had fought about so long ago and hadn't mentioned since.

"I did," Sirius replied shakily.

Remus smirked, rolling his lips as Sirius heard the faint sound of the music silencing. "Yeah well, I've had some time to think."

And just like the romantic comedies, with the man wearing a shit-eating grin, with a twinkle in his eye, Sirius watched—in awe—as Remus slowly moved down onto a bended knee.

Sirius' mouth dropped open. "Oh my fuck, you're bending your knee—"

"Not the time, Sirius. Game of Thrones references can wait, because I'm not the fittest man." Remus slid his hand into his jacket, and Sirius rolled his fingers against his palm as he stood in sheer shock. "Sirius Black, the most un-serious man I've ever met, the brightest star, the man who did everything he wanted too, and still had the time to help me find myself. Will you—"

"Yes."

Remus let a laugh escape. "You didn't let me—"

"Just…" Sirius snapped, half-joking, as he pulled Remus to his feet. "Yes. I'll—fuckin'... yes."

He brought Remus to his lips, pressing every emotion and every thought into that kiss. Sirius didn't care that happy tears were falling, they were adding sprinkles to a moment he'd never forget. He didn't care that Remus' hand poked awkwardly into his ribs because the dull-ache reminded him that this was real, and Remus had really— _really_ —wanted to be with him. Even as Sirius' hand slid across Remus' back, his fingers catching under one of the leather suspenders, he didn't care.

Then their lips broke, and Sirius stared dumbfounded for a second before he snapped himself awake. "Your phone—"

" _What_?"

Sirius smiled, gesturing for Remus' phone. "Your phone, _this_ is a windowsill moment."

A mirrored grin exploded over Remus' face, and he quickly moved to his pocket to pull out his phone as Sirius shakily took it from him. Two presses and a flick of his thumb, and Sirius' hand was shaking as he held the phone up, camera facing them as they stared at themselves in the screen.

With happiness coating every inch of their face, tears sprinkled over their cheeks and a ring box opened between them, Sirius pressed the button, a flash erupting over their faces, as the picture moved from the big screen to the folder in the bottom left corner.

"It's beautiful," Remus smiled wide and proud.

Sirius pressed his lips to his cheek, pressing the button once more as another flash engulfed them. "Not as beautiful as me, Moony."

And Remus' laughed filled the air, blowing into the trees and rose up into the night sky.

* * *

**\-- The End --**

**Author's Note:**

> Find Me On Tumblr: [josiegrae](https://josiegrae.tumblr.com)


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